/ 
s-&/0n 


A  PRAIRIE    IDYL 


AND  OTHER  POEMS. 


AMANDA   T.   JONES. 


CHICAGO: 

JANSEN,  McCLUBG,  A  COMPANY. 
1882. 


COPYRIGHT, 

JANSEN,  MCCLUBG,  &  COMPANY, 
A.  D.  1882. 


STEREOTYPED    AND    PRINTED 

BY 
THE  CHICAGO  LEGAL  NEWS  CO. 


TO 
MISS  JANE  W.  KENDALL, 

PROVIDENCE,  E.  I. 

WHAT  GIFT,  MY  FRIEND,  CAN  BE  WORTHY  OP  YOU,  TO 
WHOM  I  OWE  SO  MUCH  ?  BUT  TAKE  THIS  LITTLE  BOOK  FOR 
YOURS,  AND  KNOW  THAT  IF,  OUT  OF  ALL  THE  WORLD,  YOU 
ONLY  SHOULD  LOVE  THE  VERSE,  I  SHOULD* STILL  REJOICE 
TO  HATE  WRITTEN  IT  FOR  YOUR  DEAR  SAKE. 

THE  AUTHOR* 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

A  PRAIRIE  IDYL 

SERVICE  AND  SACRIFICE 32 

FATHER  .       .       .       • ^ 

HEART  OP  SORROWS •  42 

WHEN  I  CALL &3 

THESE  THREE 65 

MERLIN ^ 

MARRIED 67 

FAST  ASLEEP 72 

FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH 76 

WE  TWAIN 91 

A  MORNING  MADRIGAL 94 

CROQUET       ' 

FREDDIE         .....        •  .102 

DAWN  106 

(7) 


CONTENTS. 


108 


ROSES • 

LOVE'S  LARGESS H4 

ONE  NIGHT     ...  H6 

MOTHER 124 

ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE 133 

SONNETS  .  • 149 


A  PRAIRIE   IDYL. 

I. 

FOUR  groves  stood  up  in  Western  lands, 

Burr-oaks  and  poplars — thickets  dense : 
Four  ways  they  faced,  and  linked  their  hands, 

From  rude  unreverent  eyes  to  fence 

A  closure  fair  and  ample; 
To  well  seclude  the  swaying  wheat, 

The  low  luxuriant  belt  untilled, 
From  lawless  tread  of  vagrant  feet, 

From  bursting  wind-storms,  frantic-  willed, 
From  brutes  that  rend  and  trample. 

II. 

That  liberal  field  the  granaries  filled: 
But  in  the  centre,  screened  and  cool, 
(9) 


10  A  PRAIRIE  IDYL. 

Deep-cradled,  all  its  babbling  stilled, 
Peered  out  a  limpid,  lazy  pool, 

A-swoon  with  lulls  and  hushes; 
Thence  either  way  for  many  a  rod, 

From  willows  gray  to  brambles  green, 
Drove  never  plough-share  through  the  sod,' 
Flashed  never  scythe  or  sickle  keen 
Athwart  the  pipes  and  rushes. 

III. 

I  would  that  place  you  might  have  seen: 

Day  after  day,  four  seasons  round, 
I  wandered  there  in  shade  or  sheen, 

And  aye  some  pretty  newness  found — 

Some  trace  of  spirits  tricksy. 
Tli3re  Nature  had  her  willful  way; 

Toiled,  lay  at  ease,  frowned,  sobbed,  or  smiled ; 
Was  now  a  nimble  sprite  at  play, 

And  now  a  queen,  a  laughing  child, 
A  witch,  a  water-nixie. 


A  PRAIRIE  IDYL.  11 

IV. 
Her  winter-whiteness,  undented, 

Lent  flowery  grace  to  withered  weeds, 
Where  hardy  insects  ran,  and  wild 
Brave  snow-birds,  searching  after  seed? 
Through  Boreal  blore  and  bluster; 
But  when  the  drifts  were  April-kissed, 
Marsh-marigolds  on  mound  and  fen 
Through  vapor  soft  (like  nebulous  mist, 
411  suns  to  astronomic  ken), 
Did  gloriously  cluster. 

V. 

And  certain  birds  came  seeking  then 

For  nesting-nooks  aloft  or  low: 
Song-sparrow,  blue-bird,  robin,  wren, 

All  new  in  love  as  one  might  know — 

Deliriously  trilling. 
Ah,  how  the  world  enchanted  them  ! 

They  fluttered,  floated,  flaunted  by, 


12  A  PRAIRIE  IDYL. 

Set  clinging  feet  on  stalk  or  stem, 

And  sent  roulades  into  the  sky 

As  if  it  needed  filling. 

VI. 

Sweet  tunes,  I  know  not  how  or  why, 

Transfusing,  enter  sweetest  flowers; 
From  where  the  songs  went,  far  and  high, 

Came  down  the  violets  in  showers, — 
Blue,  blue  they  were,  and  veiny; 
With  early  crow-foot  lamps  ablaze, 

And  avens-globes,  that,  rounding  slow, 
Are  purple-dusk  on  thirsty  days, 

But  like  betrothal  rubies  glow 
Rich  red  when  all  is  rainy. 

vn. 

Waved  everywhere  those  grasses  low 

That  bloom  in  yellow,  blue,  and  white; 
Green  panicles  tossed  to  and  fro, 


A  PRAIRIE  IDYL.  13 

Out-floating  sleaves  and  spinnings  light — 

Sheer  webs,  diaphanous  laces; 
Dead  gold  of  moneyworts  outflung 

In  royal  largess,  vetches  rare, 
Blue-flags  with  paling  rainbows  hung, 
Wood-sorrels  exquisitely  fair, 
Like  wondering  infant  faces. 

VIII. 

Swept  long  processions  here  and  there 

Of  shoo  ting- star  flowers,  rosy-stoled, — 
Pink-purple  crane's-bills,  eyes  a-stare 

At  ragged  neighbors  overbold— 

Red-roots  and  Roman-candles. 
No  lack  of  scarlet  bugs  be  sure, 

Of  boat-flies,  dragon-flies,  and  moths, 
Sly  lion-ants  that  trap  and  lure, 

With  tiger-beetles  fierce  as  Goths 
And  terrible  as  Vandals; 


14  A  PRAIRIE  IDYL. 

IX. 

Green  span-worms,  clambering  like  sloths, 

Cicadae  whetting  horny  beaks, 
Gold  spiders  weaving  silvery  cloths, 

And  bees  that  rob  like  very  Greeks 

To  feed  their  queen- commanders; 
Red-mites  that  love  the  noon-day  heats, 

Wood-nymphs  and  peacock  butterflies, 
Small  aphides  exuding  sweets, 

Ichneumons  dipped  in  Tyrian  dyes, 
Like  mimic  Alexanders. 

X. 

Ah,  then,  all  out  of  perfect  skies 
Rushed  in  the  lover-bobolinks! 

Like  Paganini,  music-wise, 
Each  bird  will  tell  you  all  he  thinks 
On  just  that  one-stringed  viol. 

Should  Handel,  Mozart,  Mendelssohn 


A  PRAIRIE  IDYL.  15 

Set  awful  challenges  afloat, 
This  little  master,  all  alone 
Half-way  in  Heaven,  would  tune  his  throat 
And  dare  them  to  the  trial. 

XT. 

Even  so:    The  sun  is  for  the  mote, 

And  for  the  nautilus  the  sea; 
Aerial  space  for  one  sweet  note, 

The  universe  for  you  and  me; 

God's  own  accords  and  closes 
For  capel-meisters  great  or  small. 

0  sealed  stone  lips  of  desert-sphinx, 
Keep   silence!  .  .  .  These  will  answer  all.  .  .  . 

Meantime  my  singing  bobolinks 

Brought  down  the  heavens  in  roses, 

XII. 

All  single-wild,  with  hyssops,  pinks, 
Miami- mists,  pyrolas  white, 


16  A  PRAIRIE  IDYL. 

Slight  cleavers  winding  blossomed  links, 
Fringed  orchids,  painted-cups  fire-bright, 

And  delicate  lobelias; 
Blue  skull-caps  meant  for  reverend  elves, 

Gay  butterfly-weeds,  their  wings  back-turned 
From  whirling  flights  to  guard  themselves, 
Wan  arrowheads  that  poolward  yearned 
Like  love-distraught  Ophelias. 

XIII. 
Bjt  now  the  subtle  sense  discerned 

Attenuations  faint  and  fine, 
From  where  the  sun  at  zenith  burned 
Down  to  the  shrinking  water-line 

That  left  the  naiads  dying; 
Diminuendos  organ-sweet, 

Charmed  zephyrs  vibrative  and  slow, 
As,  after  bells  have  ceased  to  beat, 
The  pleasured  ear  will  hardly  know 
When  hills  forego  replying. 


A  PRAIRIE  IDYL.  17 

XIV. 
Began  a  crazy  wind  to  blow; 

Loomed  up  a  black  and  massy  cloud; 
Fell  down  the  volumed  floods  that  flow 
With  volleying  thunders  near  and  loud, 

With  lightnings  broad  and  blinding. 
A  week  of  flying  lights  and  darks, 

Then  all  was  cbar;  from  copse  and  corn 
Flew  grosbeaks,  red-birds,  whistling  larks, 
And  thrushes  voiced  like  peris  lorn, 
Themselves  of  Heaven  reminding. 

XV. 

Deep  trails  my  hasty  hands  had  torn, 

Where,  under  fairy-tasselled  rues, 
Low  vines  their  scarlet  fruits  had  borne, 

That  neither  men  nor  gods  refuse, — 

Delicious,  spicy,  sating. 
A.S  there  through  meadow  red-tops  sere 


18  A  PRAIRIE  IDYL. 

I  toiled,  my  fragile  friends  to  greet, 
Out  sang  the  birds :  ' '  Good  cheer !  good  cheer ! ! 
"  This  way!" — "  Pure,  purity  !" — "  So  sweet!' 
"See!  see!  a- waiting — waiting!" 

XVI. 

I  saw:    Each  way  the  rolling  wheat, 

The  wild-flower  wilderness  between, 
Therein  the  sun-emblazoning  sheet, 

Four  ways  the  thickets  darkly  green, 
The  vaporous  drifts  and  dazzles; 
Swift  lace-wings  flittering  high  and  low, 

Sheen,  gauzy  scarves  a-sag  with  dew, 
Blown  phloxes  flaked  like  falling  snow, 

.Wide  spiderworts  in  umbels  blue, 
Wild  bergamots  and  basils; 

XVII. 

And  oh,  the  lilies!  melted  through 
With  ocherous  pigments  of  the  sun! 


A  PRAIRIE  IDYL.  19 

Translucent  flowers  of  marvellous  hue, 
Red,  amber,  orange,  all  in  one, — 

Their  brown-black  anthers  bursting 
To  scatter  out  their  powdered  gold: 

One  half  with  upward  looks  attent, 
As  holy  secrets  might  be  told, 
One  half  with  turbans  earthward  bent, 
For  Eden's  rivers  thirsting. 

XVIII. 
And  now  the  winds  a-tiptoe  went, 

As  loth  to  trouble  Summer-calms; 
The  air  was  dense  with  sifted  scent, 
Dispersed  from  fervid  mints  and  balms 

Whose  pungent  fumes  betrayed  them. 
The  brooks,  on  yielding  sedges  flung, 

Half-slept — babe-soft  their  pulses  beat; 
Wee  humming-birds,  green-burnished,  swung 
Now  here,  now  there,  to  find  the  sweet, 
As  if  a  billow  swayed  them. 


20  A  PRAIRIE  IDYL. 

XIX. 

Loud- whirring  hawk-moths,  large  and  fleet, 

Went  honey-mad;  the  dipters  small 
Caught  wings,  they  bathed  in  airy  heat; 

1  saw  the  mottled  minnows  all,— 
So  had  the  pool  diminished. 
No  Sybarite  ever  banqueted 

As  those  bird-rioters  young  and  old: 
The  red-wing's  story,  while  he  fed, 

A  thousand  times  he  partly  told, 
But  never  fairly  finished. 

XX. 

Some  catch  the  reeling  oriole  trolled, 
Broke  off  his  black  and  gold  to  trim; 

Quarrelled  the  blue-jay  fiery-bold, — 
Or  feast  or  fight  all  one  to  him, 
True  knight  at  drink  or  duel; 

New  wine  of  berries  black  and  red 
The  noisy  cat-bird  sipped  and  sipped; 


A  PRAIRIE  IDYL.  21 

The  king-bird  bragged  of  battles  dread, 
How  he  the  stealthy  hawk  had  whipped — 
That  armed  marauder  cruel. 

XXI. 

While  so  they  sallied,  darted,  dipped, 

Slow  feathered  seeds  began  to  sail; 
Gray  milk-weed  pods  their  flosses  slipped, — 

More  blithely  blew  the  buoying  gale, 

And  sent  them  whitely  flying. 
Rose  up  new  creatures  every  hour 

From  brittle-walled  chrysalides; 
The  yellow  wings  on  every  flower 

With  ringed  wasps  and  bumble-bees 
Shone,  Danae's  gold  outvying. 

XXII. 

Somewhat  I  missed  of  rhythmic  ease, — 
Warm  equipoise  of  North  and  South : 
Those  silver  weights  of  tropic  seas 


22  A  PRAIRIE  IDYL. 

Bore  down  the  scale;  the  days  of  drouth 

Caught  gusts  from  vast  expanses. 
Now  this  way,  that  way,  through  the  field 

The  rattling  reapers  reaped  the  grain; 
And  much  men  talked  of  heavy  yield, 
Who  reckoned  up  their  garnered  gain 
And  schemed  for  market-chances. 

XXTII. 

But  I  went  out  and  faced  the  rain: 

I  started  up  the  prairie-hens, 
Heard  dripping  mourning- doves  complain, 

Amid  the  stubble  saw  the  dens 

Of  gophers,  moles,  and  rabbits; 
The  quails  and  phoebe- birds  and  I 

A- wet  were  not  afraid  to  roam; 
Chipmunks  and  chittering  squirrels  shy 

From  gleaning  raids  I  followed  home, 
Despite  their  wary  habits : 


A  PEAIEIE  IDYL.  23 

XXIV. 

Striped  burrowers  in  the  rooty  loam, 

Tree-nesters,  vaulters  black  and  gray, 
Was  ever  airling,  brownie,  gnome 

Or  elf  more  deftly  housed  than  they — 

Those  rapid  disappearers  ? 
But  now  that  arias  all  were  sung 

And  voices  tired  of  wild  volees, 
Sweet-sounding  gitterns  half- unstrung, 

Ona  well  might  look  for  rare  boquets 
Flung  out  from  heavenly  hearers. 

XXV. 

Almost  one  saw  through  yellow  haze 
The  laughing  loiterers  peering  down: 

With  haste  I  crossed  the  fieldy  ways, 
Nor  stopped  for  briers  nor  held  my  gown 
From  burrs  and  clinging  loments. 

Those  milk-froth  corymbs  well  I  knew, 
Whose  little  dead- white  clocks  among 


24  A  PRAIRIE  IDYL. 

The  gilded  wheat  had  two  moons  through 
Their  triple-seeded  pendules  swung 
To  tell  the  lagging  moments. 

XXVI. 
Now  all  abroad — though  curtains  clung 

About  the  doors  of  noondays  warm, 
And  dawns  were  chill — their  circlets  hung, 
Self-fashioned  in  a  flowery  storm, 
As  when  a  snow-cloud  settles. 
And  visible,  yet  pale  the  while 

As  cherubs  seen  through  waning  flame, 
Those  May  wood-sorrels,  infantile, 
Bore  once  again  their  earthly  name, 
And  dwelt  among  the  nettles. 

XXVII. 
All  sunny-quick  as  quivering  flame, 

The  ruby- throats  hummed  round  about 
Those  nectarous  thistles  people  blame, 


A  PRAIRIE  IDYL.  25 

And  tippad  their  flasked  elixirs  out, 

Nor  wronged  one  growing  geruien. 
Soft-mirrored  in  the  crimsoned  pool, 

Plumed  iron-weeds — Quixotes  grim- 
Kept  witless  guard.     From  lurkings  cool 
Green  pepperworts,  that  love  to  swim, 
Came  floating  up  like  mermen. 

XXVIII. 

Cone-flowers,  corollas  rim  to  rim,— 

Czarinas,  queens,  sultanas  all, — 
Stood  crowned  with  beauty,  stately-slim, 

By  right  divine  the  purple  pall 

Magnificently  wearing. 
And  radiant  namesakes  of  the  sun, 

From  East  to  West  a  glittering  band, 
Bright-belted  satellites  every  one, 

Turned  on  their  axes,  golden-grand, 
Celestial  ardor  sharing. 


26  A  PRAIRIE  IDYL. 

XXIX. 

Along  the  turf-made  bridge  that  spanned 

The  narrow  slough  and  sunken  swale, 
To  keep  the  feet  on  firmer  land, 

I,  lingering,  watched  the  ant-folk  fraD 

Prepare  for  bitter  weather; 
Race  in,  race  out,  bear  weighty  spoils, 

Dig  drains  their  humid  hills  to  sluice, 
Build  cities,  plan  Herculean  toils. 

Make  war  on  giant-foes,  grant  truce, — 
Go  jaunting  off  together. 

XXX. 

And  now  was  every  cleft  of  use, 

Some  bronzed  and  sharded  thing  to  hide, 
Some  brilliant  creature,  small  and  spruce, 

That  late  went  rambling  far  and  wide, 

The  blue  his  sole  pavilion. 
Followed  a  blast,  a  rainy  rush, 


A  PRAIRIE  IDYL.  27 

Careering  clouds  that  met  and  crashed; 
Then  hints  of  frost, — a  doubtful  blush, 
One  sumach,  like  a  palette,  dashed 
With  umber,  gold,  vermilion. 

XXXI.  4 

And  out  again  the  sunlight  flashed; 

An  owl  (his  sleeping- time  confused 
With  tempest-darkness),  dazed,  abashed, 

Fled  forest-ward  like  one  accused, 

Untimely  Sittings  ruing: 
Straightway  those  clannish  sable-coats 

That  clamor  music  steeple-high 
(Sevenths,  ninths,  harsh  inter-jarring  notes), 

Wheeled  out  of  ring,  swooped  down  the  sky, 
The  blundering  fowl  pursuing. 

XXXII. 

"Aha!  so  you  are  caught!"  said  I: 
"Gray,  tufted  mouser — spoiler  fell! 


28  A  PEAIBIE  IDYL. 

But  who  shall  join  the  hue-and-cry 
To  catch  the  felon  crows  as  well?  " 

With  that,  a  rifle  sounded; 
And  one  whom  pitying  grace  must  reach 
If  he  escape,  sprang  out  and  laughed. 
I  went  my  way :  what  need  of  speech  ? 
The  world  was  fair  in  spite  of  craft- 
Rose- apples  yet  abounded: 

XXXIII. 
Red,  golden-cored,  a  stolen  graft 

From  Paradise;  whose  roots,  green-girthed, 
Such  carmine  spilth  of  tuns  had  quaffed, 
One  sacred  seed,  plucked  out  and  earthed, 

Had  vivified  Sahara. 
"  But  0,  sweet-slumbering  roses,  sleep!" 

I  sighed,  "  nor  dream  what  weaklings  shrink, 
What  plunderers  prowl,  what  murderers  creep, 
What  souls,  for  dews  of  Hermon,  drink 
The  loathed  drops  of  Marah!  " 


A  PRAIRIE  IDYL.  29 

XXXIV. 

I  saw  the  splendors  southward  sink, 

And  turned  to  wonder  while  I  might 
At  all  those  asters — azure,  pink, 

Gray-blue,  pure  indigo,  purple,  white, — 
Not  yet  the  cold  had  harmed  them: 
No  blighting  breeze,  descending  low, 

Had  browned  morasses  greenly-deep, 
Where  shell-flowers  orbed  that  never  blow, 

But  smile — forever  sound  asleep, 
As  Viviane  had  charmed  them. 

XXXV. 

Nor  dared  the  frost  his  films  to  sweep 
Across  the  gentians  fringed  and  bluj — 

Frail  tabernacles  veiled  to  keep 
Some  holiest-holy  place  from  view, 
Where  never  light  should  enter. 

And  now  I  called  my  slave  of  lamps, 


30  A  PRAIRIE  IDYL. 

To  lift  the  field  and  move  it  thence, 
With  all  its  odors,  fervors,  damps, 
Its  blooms,  its  thickets  hazel-dense, 
The  slopes  from  verge  to  centre; 

XXXVI. 

The  storms  blown  in,  one  knew  not  whence, 

The  slumberous  pool,  the  waterlings 
The  rose-lake  dawns,  the  noons  intense, 

The  glossy  mites,  the  soaring  things, 

Tone-sweets  and  dissonances. 
"  Take  up  the  place,  0  servant  mine!" 

I  bade,  "  and  bear  it  many  a  mile. 
Since  wizards  trick,  conjure,  divine, 

I  too  with  woven  spells  would  wile, 
And  practice  necromancies. 

XXXVII. 

"  May  be,"  I  said,  and  laughed  the  while, 
"  This  fair  King-Oberon's- Realm  may  seem 


A  PRAIRIE  IDYL.  31 

An  Avalon,  a  flying  isle, 
A  soft-emblossomed  poet's  dream, 

A  sun-and-wind  suspension: 
So  let  it  swim  in  upper  air, 

Made  evident  to  mortal  sight,— 
A  clear  mirage,  a  rainbow-snare, 
A  dewy  exhalation  slight, 
A  spirit-like  ascension. 

XXXVIII. 

"  And  if  it  waste  in  airy  light, 

V 

And  if  it  melt  and  all  diffuse, 
And  if  it  rise  and  vanish  quite, 
Desired  on  high, — its  lovely  hues 
A  white-translated  seven, — 
There  are  who  gazing  long  will  muse 

On  world- similitudes  serene, 
Will  smiling  seize  the  beamy  clues, 

Climb  up  from  where  GOD'S  earth  is  green, 
Look  in,  and  see  His  Heaven.'' 


SERVICE  AND  SACRIFICE. 


SERVICE  AND   SACRIFICE. 

I. 

WHITER  than  dew-bleached  flax  or  fleeces  shorn, 
Large-moulded  as  for  treading  out  the  corn, 
Adorned  with  garlands  looped  from  horn  to  horn, 

Meek -faced  and  gentle — creatures  without  flaw, 
Yoked  in  with  banded  gold  and  set  to  draw 
From  camp  to  camp  the  tables  of  the  law, — 

0  happy  oxen!  thus  approved  to  wear 
Before  the  holy  ark  the  symbols  fair; 
Light  yokes  of  service  for  the  LORD  to  bear! 

II. 

Struck  down  beside  the  altar — wonder-eyed, 
The  warm  blood  pouring  from  their  gashes  wide, 
So  wetting  cleanly  hoof  and  snowy  hide, 


SER  VICE  AND  SACRIFICE.          33 

With  deep  heart-pantings  and  with  horns  down- 
tossed 

Among  the  wild- voiced  people,  desert-lost, 
Paying  of  all  their  sins  the  crimson  cost, — 

0  happy,  happy  oxen !  thus  to  lie 

And  wait  the  swift  flame  circling  down  the  sky, 

Wrapped  in  the  mantle  of  the  LORD  to  die! 

III. 

But  Aaron's  priestly  heart  with  pity  yearned; 
And  when  along  the  well -seared  flesh  out-burned 
The  fragrant  oil,  and  tent-ward  all  had  turned, 

He  drew  the  fine-twined  hangings  close  around 
The  sacred  court,  and  falling  to  the  ground 
Cried  "Hear  me,  Lord,  and  let  Thy  grace  abound ! 

"  Thou,  brooding  still  above  the  mercy-seat, 
Ar3  these  red  hands  yet  holy,  and  these  feet 

Painted  with  slaughter — is  their  service  sweet? 
3 


34          SERVICE  AND  SACRIFICE. 

IV. 

"  And  hear  me  yet  (for  I  am  faint  with  dread) : 
Before  Thy  graven  word,  with  down-bent  head, 
Through  sun  and  storm  the  beasts  were  wont  to 
tread, 

"  While  sweat  of  toil  ran  down  like  dropping  rain : 
Hadst  Thou  no  sorrow,  therefore,  for  their  pain, 
When  all  their  life-blood  washed  the  trampled 
plain? 

"  Are  they  who  serve  Thee  chosen  still  to  feel 
About  their  throats  the  gashing  of  the  steel, — 
And  Thou  all  wrath?    Herein  Thyself  reveal." 

V. 

Then  Aaron  lay  and  trembled;  for  the  grace 
And  glory  of  the  LORD  had  filled  the  place 
MOST  HOLY,  so  that  none  might  show  his  face. 

Out  of  the  cloud  a  voice:     "  Have  I  not  said, 


SERVICE  AND  SACRIFICE.          35 

'  At  morn  and  eve  Mine  altars  shall  be  red  ?' 
My  people — are  they  not  with  bullocks  fed  ? 

"  But  know  that  I  am  GOD:    Hath  any  need? 
His  toil  and  grief  are  Mine;  with  him  T  bleed: 
Yoked  in  with  Death  that  thou  and  thine  may 
feed. 

"  Beholl,  who  yields  his  life — an  offering  meet — 
Thenceforth  is  yoked  with  LOVE!  Arisa  and  eat; 
Thy  hands  are  holy  and  their  service  sweet." 


36  FATHER. 


FATHER. 

I. 

I  PLUCKED  the  bird-foot  violets, 
Long-lobed,  white-hearted,  azure-pale, 

And  odorous  as  heliotropes. 
I  said:  "  The  sun  in  Heaven  begets 
No  fairer  flower  to  scent  the  gale 

That  fans  the  angel-haunted  slopas : 
I  would  beneath  his  eyes  they  grew 
Who  loved  me  when  my  years  were  few." 

II. 

Oh,  he  was  gentle,  generous,  true! 

He  loved  his  home,  he  loved  his  church, 

He  pitied  sinners  everywhere; 
The  virtues  of  his  friends  he  knew, 

But  was  not  used  their  faults  to  search, 


FATHER.  37 

Nor  found  them — if  they  were  not  there. 
Whoever  else  is  sick  or  sad, 
I  have  no  doubt  his  life  is  glad. 

III. 

Ah  me!  if  but  the  flowers  he  had! 
That  leaning  down  from  where  he  sings 
(Up-floated  from  the  Heavenly  plains 
With  that  ineffable  glory  clad), 
He  might  behold  the  pallid  things 
All  newly  washed  in  silver  rains, 
And  pleased,  reminded,  murmur  low: 
"The  earth  bore  violets  long  ago; 

IV. 

"  My  Htt'e  daughter  watched  them  grow: 

She  travelled  all  the  fields  and  dales, 

Crept  under  zig-zag  fences  rude, 

Waded  through  shallow  waters  slow, 
Went  shoulder-deep  in  meadow-swales, 


38  FATHER. 

And,  charmed  with  woodland  solitude, 
Sank  down  at  last,  where,  weighed  with  clew, 
The  pretty,  pretty  blossoms  grew. 

y. 

"  But  these  are  holier  of  hue, 
Are  lovelier  far,  more  sweet  of  breath, 

More  altogether  of  the  skies. 
And  can  it  be  that  world  I  knew 
Is  reeling  out  from  darks  of  Death  ? 

And  would  my  children  all  arise 
And  welcome  me,  if  I  should  bend 
My  flight  their  way  and  so  descend, — • 

VI. 

"Hand  holding  hand  as  friend  with  friend?  " 
And  I  believe  that  he  would  yield 

His  crown,  and  in  the  guise  that  hid 
His  soul  before  the  journey's  end, 
Would  in  the  doorway  stand  revealed; 


FA  THEE.  39 

Would  catch  my  hands  as  once  he  did; 
Would  lift  me,  kiss  me,  hold  me  high, 
And  bid  me  gaze  into  the  sky. 

VII. 

Th?n  I  should  see  the  stars  go  by; 
And  I  should  see — nor  die  to  see- 
Far-off,  far-off,  and  very  faint, 
As  through  a  glass,  not  eye  to  eye, 
Those  who  were  bond  but  now  are  free, 
The  well-beloved  of  that  blest  saint: 
The  two  fair  babes  whose  haste  to  go 
Half-broke  his  heart,  ho  loved  them  so; 

VIII. 

The  pure  young  lad  who  yearned  to  know 
Some  far,  imaginad,  perfect  land, 

Some  rose- illumined  Sharon's  vale, 
And  hasted  on  through  wind  and  snow 
With  leaping  foot  and  reaching  hand 


40  FATHER. 

As  Galahad  to  find  the  Grail, — • 
Till  passed  some  burning  charioteer 
And  snatched  him;  white  with  holy  fear; 

IX. 

And  that  proud  patriot-boy,  all  dear 
To  God  and  us :  no  tongue  can  tell 

How  desp  the  hurt  when  he  went  down  ; 
And,  over  all,  those  gray  eyes,  clear 
As  some  unfathomable  well 

Wherein  all  doubts  and  sorrows  drown — 
The  mother,  sighing:  "Long  I  wait; 
These  are  but  four,  and  those  are  eight." 

X. 

Then  I  should  see  the  light  abate; 

Should  lose  and  lose  the  vision  fair; 

Should  sink  and  sink,  more  closely  pressed,- 
Upon  my  lids  a  flowery  weight, 

A  scent  of  violets  in  the  air; 


FATHER. 

Till  he  would  lift  me  from  his  breast 
All  swooning— love  me,  lay  me  down, 
Pass  out,  and  so  resume  his  crown. 


41 


42  HEART  OF  SORROWS. 


HEART    OF    SORROWS. 

I. 

HER  patli  breaks  off, — she  strikes  some  jutting 

wall 

Night-hidden,  thrust  across.   Thereby  a  rock 
Light-shaken  rolls:  the  tumult  of  its  fall, 
The  long,  long  silence  and  the  far-down  shock 

Take  all  her  breath; 

"  For  certain  I  have  found"  (so  in  her  heart  she 
saith) 
"  The  very  haunts  of  Death." 

II. 

The  mountain-air  that  should  be  blithe  and  loud 
Blown  dense  with  dripping  vapor  doth  not  stir; 
She  feels  it  cling  as  though  it  were  a  shroud: 


HEART  OF  SORROWS.  43 

From  Earth  and  Hell  and  Heaven  it  covers  her. 

If,  fain  to  guide, 

Some  torch-upholding  seraph  tread  the  spaces 
wide, 

Yet  will  these  shades  abide. 

III. 
Howbeit  she,  groping,  finds  a  stony  bed — 

Not  strown  upon  with  cones  of  cedar  sweet, 
But  ragged,  sharp  to  hurt:  there  rests  her  head 
Ami  will  not  shrink  nor  gather  up  her  feet. 
"If  this  may  be, 

And  Death  through  these  abysmal  gates  reach 
after  me, 

All  may  be  well"  (saith  she). 

IV. 

So  waits  on  sleep :  But  still  some  tempest-thought, 
Flame-winged,  sweeps  back  that  billow's  tot't 
advance. 


44  HEART  OF  SORROWS. 

"  And  is  this  net- work  of  the  flesh  _for  naught" 
(She  sighs)  "but  to  be  torn  at  every  chance? 

Or  doth  it  keep 

Some  desert-creature,  ready  for  the  outward  leap, 
The  rush,  the  tireless  sweep? 

V. 

"0  soul  (and  if  there  be  a  soul),  unmeet 

For  pastures  green  and  rivers  of  delight! 
For  thou  wert  cavern-born  and  fierce  and  fleet; 
A  thing  unclean,  a  prowler  of  the  night. 

Lo,  fettered  fast, 

What  power,  moved  by  thy  moans,  will  set  thee 
free  at  last, 

To  rove  Saharas  vast? 

VI. 

"  No  doubt  the  Solitudes  befit  thee  well: 

But  how  if  One  all  shining  cross  the  sands, 
"With  tranquil  eyes  that  evermore  compel, 


HEART  OF  SORROWS.  45 

And  strange  converting  touch  of  holy  hands; 

In  still  accord 

(Upbraiding  not),  full  gently  leading  thee  toward 
The  gardens  of  the  Lord — 

VII. 
"  Deep-set  among  the  fair  eternal  hills, 

With  entrances  of  balsam-yielding  fir 
And  date-sustainingpalm;  where  (since  He  wills) 
Thou  shalt  perceive  far-off  the  murmurous  stir, 

The  vestments  white, 

Of  those  melodious  ones, — and,  shadowed  safe 
from  sight, 
Shalt  dream  thy  dreams  of  light? 

VIII. 

"  Musing,  how  wondrous  are  the  heights  of  fire! 
What  cool  and  fruitful  vales  then*  spurs  secrete ! 
Awaiting  through  hushed  aeons  of  desire 

Till  thou  shalt  hear  His  voice,  so  loud,  so  sweet 


46  HEART  OF  SORROWS. 

With  words  that  rule : 

'  Arise  and  enter  in,  thou  who  art  white  as  wool, 
And  let  thy  joy  be  full! ' 

IX. 
"And  oh,  the  many  streams  from  Lebanon! 

The  pleasant  winds  that  flow  out  east  and  west, 
From  myrrh  and  frankincense  and  cinnamon! 
And  oh,  the  bads  of  spice  whereon  to  rest! 

And  oh,  the  KING! 

Lilies  and  clustering  flowers  and  vines  behold  him 
bring, 
About  thy  feet  to  cling. 

X. 

"Ah  me!  the  anguish,  the  devouring  haste 

Of  this,  my  soul,  to  touch  the  hands  that  savels 
But  if  there  be  no  gardens — if  the  Waste 
Stretch  boundless  on  from  empty  grave  tograve, 
If  shriek  and  curse 


HEART  OF  SORROWS.  47 

And  wail  of  furthest  voices  through  the  universe 
An  infinite  Woe  rehearse, — 

XI. 

"  Thou  soul  who  rendest  so  the  fleshly  net, — 
Set  free  and  to  the  desert-sweeps  out-cast, 
With  all  thy  noon-tide  thirst  upon  thee  yet, — 
Shalt  load,  with  desolate  cries,  the  arid  blast; 

Or  crouch  and  wait 

B-side  the  bitter  springs  whose  waters  will  not 
sate 
Thine  everlasting  hate. 

XII. 

"  But  oh,  to  be  so  mocked!  where  late  I  lay, 

Choked  by  that  cruel  Ganges  thick  with  mire 
Men  call  Love's  river,  eyelids  stiff  with  clay, 
Flung  out  to  perish,  scorched  in  winds  of  fire, 

Till  One  passed  by, 

And  drew  me  from  the  flood  and  whispered  '  It  is  I ! 
Behold,  thou  shalt  not  die!' 


48  HEART  OF  SORROWS. 

XIII. 

"How  did  my  heart  within  me  melt  and  yearn! 
What  copious  tears  washed  out  my  blinded 

eyes! 

Far  up  the  silver  steeps  I  saw  Him  turn, 
Then  vanish — gathered  to  the  awful  skies: 

And  without  rest 

I  followed  but  to  kiss  some  rock  His  feet  had  prest, 
And  be  forever  blest. 

XIV. 

"  The  jostling  crowds  did  jeer  and  buffet  me 

Along  the  burning  plains :    At  fall  of  night 
Among  the  steep-set  rocks  I  shook  to  see 
Their  olden  beds  uptorn  by  torrents  white, 

The  sheer  descent 

Beside  whose  soundless  deeps  I  trod,  fear-faint 
and  spent, 

Nor  found  the  way  He  went." 


HEART  OF  SORROWS.  49 

XV. 

Here  lifting  up  her  voice  she  cries  aloud: 

"Sore- beaten  by  the  dread  four  winds  that  blow 
From  crag  to  crag  the  fell  red-bosomed  cloud, 
Oh,  yet  I  thought  to  climb  and  near  Him  so! 

If  still  afar, 

Only  to  wait  and  worship,  silent  as  a  star, 
Where  all  the  glaciers  are." 

XVI. 

Upstarting  from  her  bed — as  one  who  hears 

Supernal  sighings  and  remote  farewells, 
With  crash  of  final  bolts  that  lock  the  spheres— 
"  0  Thou  Serene  "  (she  mourns)  "  whose  love 
excels! 

I  may  not  reach 

To  clasp  Thy  robe  and  weep,  and  of  Thy  lips  be 
seech 

Their  honey-dropping  speech;— 
4 


50  HEART  OF  SORROWS. 

XVII. 
' '  Engirt  with  deathful  snares :    Yet  hadst  Thou 

seen 
Before  the  gulfs  yawned  black  from  north  to 

south, 

How  had  Thy  tears  of  pity  washed  me  clean ! 
How  had  I  felt  the  kisses  of  Thy  mouth! 

Now  without  doubt 

The  very  gates  of  Hell,  across  the  skies  flung  out, 
Have  compassed  me  about." 

XVIII. 

Even  at  the  word,  from  ledge  to  crevice  steals 
An  undulant  motion,  as  of  opening  graves, 
Or  influent  surges  when  the  sea  unseals 
The  strong  sepulchral  door  of  ancient  caves; 

Till,  waxing  bold, 

Earth  sends  her  thunders  out:  beneath  the  moun 
tain  rolled, 
They  cleave  its  bases  old. 


HEART  OF  SORROWS.  51 

.  XIX. 

With  stroke  on  stroke  all  down  the  wavering 

steep 
They  cast  this  grieving  one.    ....    But 

now  a  light 

Smites  darkness  out  from  cope  to  centre  deep: 
Hurled  through  the  white  abyss  in  headlong 
flight, 

From  mortal  harms, 

The  Angel  of  the  Torch,  whom  Death  nor  Hell 
alarms, 

Upbears  her  in  his  arms. 

XX. 

She  lies  upon  his  breast  like  drifted  snow: 
"  My  LOKD  and  thine  nath  sent  for  thee  "  (he 

saith); 

She  feels  the  winds  of  Paradise  outblow — 
Full  fain  is  she  to  breathe  their  holy  breath : 
Aloes  and  myrrh, 


52  HEART  OF  SORROWS. 

\ 

All  the  chief  spices  with  their  wafting  wings  astir, 
Divinely  comfort  her. 

XXI. 

Such  need  hath  soaring  Love,  the  heavens  make 

way; 

With  all  their  stars  they  vanish  as  a  scroll: 
The  King's  pavilions,  beautiful  are  they — 
Behold,  with  sweets  He  satisfies  her  soul ! 

But  I,  less  white, 
Among  the  clefts  of  rocks,  with  creatures  of  the 

night, 
{  Hide  me  in  sore  affright. 


WHEN  I  CALL.  53 


WHEN   I  CALL. 

I. 

ON  the  LORD  when  in  sorrow  I  call 

And  He  pours  out  my  drink, 
From  that  cup  of  the  wormwood  and  gall 

In  rebellion  I  shrink: 

All  unworthy,  unworthy, 
Unworthy  to  drink  of  the  gall. 

II. 

Over  flowers  while  His  gentle  rain-,  fall, 

And  their  heads  they  lift  up, 
Still  He  gives  me  the  wormwood  and  gall; 

Whispers,  "  Drink  of  the  cup: 

I  would  have  thee  be  worthy, 
Be  worthy  to  drink  of  the  gall." 


54  WHEN  I  CALL. 

III. 
0  my  heart,  cease  for  honey  to  call! 

Hush  and  heed  the  dear  Voice: 
"  While  I  pour  out  the  wormwood  and  gall, 
Be  thou  glad  and  rejoice; 

I  have  counted  thee  worthy, 
Well  worthy  to  drink  of  the  gall." 

IV. 

Precious  -MASTER,  whatever  befall, 

Though  I  die  at  Thy  feet, 
Fill  my  cup  with  the  wormwood  and  gall; 

It  is  sweet,  it  is  sweet, 

Oh,  how  sweet  to  be  worthy, 
Made  worthy  to  drink  of  the  gall ! 


THESE  THREE.  55 


THESE   THREE. 

I. 

I  SAID  of  Love:  "She  hath  no  dwelling-place 

On  earth  or  in  the  air: 
Or  near  or  far  no  man  hath  seen  her  face, 

That  he  should  name  it  fair; 

The  lion  hath  his  lair 
Among  the  olive-thickets  cool  and  green, 
The  glittering  serpent  hath  his  balmy  screen, 

And  they  who  lightly  bear 
The  weight  of  floods — those  murderous  creatures 

• — sleep 

Within  the  hushed  recesses  of  the  deep: 
But  as  for  Love,  she  is  not  here  nor  there." 

II. 

I  said  of  Life:  "Too  well  I  know  that  queen 
Who  bathes  in  blood  her  feet: 


56  THESE  THREE. 

Hard  by  the  soundless  pit  her  gateways  lean : 

Her  hate  is  fiery-fleet; 

Her  love  is  like  the  sleet 
That  pierces  to  the  heart  with  bitter  cold: 
The  timbers  of  her  palace  burn  with  gold, 

But  she  is  all  unsweefc. 
Haply  she  once  was  not,  she  shall  not  be; 
Full  to  her  throne-room  creeps  the  crafty  sea, 
And  secret  waters  weave  her  winding-sheet." 

III. 

I  said  of  Death:  "  She  is  not  young  nor  old: 

Her  paths  the  heavens  explore; 
Times,  times  and  countless  times  have  made  her 
bold: 

Yet  enters  she  my  door; 

Her  lifted  hands  out-pour 
Vials  of  odors — costly  oil  that  drips 
Upon  the  eyes  till  seals  of  soft  eclipse 

Their  olden  sleep  restore. 


THESE  THREE.  57 

I  have  not  se3nher  face,  if  she  be  fair; 
If  she  be  sweet  I  know  not,  I,  nor  care: 
But  what  she  is  she  will  be  evermore. 

IV. 
Death  took  me  by  the  hands  and  kissed  my  lips : 

Thereafter  I  was  still. 

"Behold,"  she  said,  "One  in  the  wine-press  dips, 
That  thou  shouldst  drink  thy  fill! " 
Did  ever  voice  so  thrill? 
I  turned  to  see  if  that  were  Death  who  spake; 
Sun-like  she  smiled:     "Thou  who    hast  slept, 

awake; 

See  thou  my  grapes  distill 

Their  sweets  from  out  the  purple."    Then  I  knew 
Life's  blood-bathed  feet, — but  named  her  Love, 

and  drew 
Within  her  banquet-house  to  feast  at  will. 


58  MERLIN. 


MERLIN. 

I. 

I  CRUSH  wild  grapes;  I  fill  the  cup 
With  what  the  strong  hand  wins: 
For  when  my  vassal-star  is  up, 
My  wizard-work  begins. 

I  tread  the  magic  round; 
I  shake  the  solid  ground; 
The  hurricane,  whose  hollow  wings 

Drag  through  the  snow  of  both  the  poles, 
Dies  when  I  sign;  the  grewsome  things 
That  gibe  and  mock  tormented  souls 
Aye  hush,  and  heed  my  word; 
Back  to  the  clouds  they  leap, 
Their  lurid  ways  are  steep: 
But  till  he  hears  who  never  heard, 


MERLIN.  59 

Who  roams  and  hath  no  rest;, 
And  till  the  heart  that  never  stirred 
Rocks  in  his  kingly  breast, 

My  phantom  sheaves  I  reap, 

I  delve  in  sorceries  deep. 

II. 

Uprears  the  star:  now  will  I  quaff, 

For  blessing  or  for  bane, 
The  drink  that  makes  the  white  gods  laugh, 
The  black  gods  howl  with  pain. 
Though  they  be  fain  and  loth, 
Like  sonship  have  they  both; 
Ripe  math  is  theirs  and  vintage  red; 

The  sacred  sour-and-sweet  they  pour; 
Deep  in  the  dish  dip  hallowed  bread; — • 
And  these  will  sink,  and  those  will  soar. 
0  tangled  bird  and  snake ! 

0  world  that  joys  and  drees! 
0  glad  and  fell  decrees! 


60  MERLIN. 

Till  he  shall  come  his  thirst  to  slake 

Who  never  drank  of  wine, 
And  smile:  "  Brave  Merlin,  hearts  must  ache, 
But- health  to  thee  and  thine!  " 
I  rob  my  nights  of  ease; 
I  wade  through  sable  seas. 

III. 
All  spells  that  ever  mortal  wrought 

To  daunt  the  demon- train, 
All  moonlight  gossameres  up-caught 
Are  webbed  about  my  brain. 
Nathless,  when  late  I  slept 
One  near  me  wept  and  wept: 
"Oh,  wear  thy  silver  shoon  to-night, 
And  see  thou  pluck  no  water- weed; 
But  say  thy  potent  weird  aright 
Full  thrice,  for  sore  will  be  thy  need. 
Be  thine  enchantments  wise; 
For  when  the  North  out-slips 


MERLIN.  61 

Her  fiery-masted  ships, 
Then  will  he  lean  across  the  skies  :— 

0  Merlin,  guard  thee  well; 

For  thou  shalt  read,  in  midnight  eyes, 
What  none  may  hear  or  tell: 
The  while  thy  wine  he  sips, 
With  dread,  desiring  lips." 

IV. 

And  now  I  don  my  charmed  shoon; 

1  ponder  thrice  the  text; 

I  trouble  not  the  rathe  round  moon; 
I  leave  the  sea  unvexed; 
I  nail  the  windy  gatea 
Where  wild  Arcturus  waits; 
And  ever,  while  the  lissome  flame 

Runs  round  my  trench  of  precious  oil, 
I  kneel  and  write  the  HOLY  NAME 
In  awful  symbols  on  the  soil. 
Awake,  0  North!  forego 


62  MERLIN. 

Thy  polar  couches  dim, 
"While  yet  thy  star  may  swim 
Unswallowed  of  the  swathing  snow. 

Send  out  thy  ships  of  fire, 
And  burn  him  hither,  friend  or  foe; 
For  great  is  my  desire 

To  clash  loud  brim  with  brim, 
To  rise  and  strive  with  him. 

Y. 

Her  smouldering  coals  have  caught  the  gales 

Her  masts  are  zenith- high: 
How  fair  outswell  the  yellow  sails 
Against  a  paling  sky! 

Those  glassen  floods  are  wide 
Wherethrough  her  vessels  ride : 
They  follow  East,  they  follow  West, 

They  follow  South,  for  weal  or  woe; 
Now  first  within  his  wieldy  breast 
The  mighty  heart  swings  to  and  fro. 


MERLIN.  63 

All  dark  from  "battle-sods 
His  samite  raiment  fine, — 
All  brackish  from  the  brine : 
He  feels  that  spur  of  scourging  rods, 

He  treads  the  gulfs  of  loss ; 
He  knows  that  wanton  thirst  of  gods; 
He  leans  the  heavens  across. 

I  bruise  my  grapes  for  wine — 
Good  health,  sweet  brother  mine ! 

VI. 

I  know  thee,  that  thy  name  is  Death, 

Thou  drainer  of  the  blood: 
Thy  lips  I  gift  with  dainty  breath; 
I  crown  thea,  leaf  and  bud. 

Through  near  unlawful  eyes 
I  draw  thy  proud  replies : 
"Sweet  health,  0  Merlin,  gentle  king, 

Forever  wait  on  thine  and  thee! 
But  wilt  thou  quit  thy  ghostly  ring? 


64  MERLIN. 

And  art  thou  brave  to  strive  with  me?  " 
Now  never  youth  so  burned 
To  stride  his  warling  steed, 
To  slay  the  dragon-breed, 
As  I,  the  yet  Unthrown,  have  yearned 

To  meet  thee  fair  in  fight; 
And,  till  thy  riddles  I  have  learned, 
To  wrestle,  mind  and  might: 
Or  thou  or  I  must  bleed,— 
So  sore  is  this  my  need! 

VII. 

Beyond  my  trench,  whose  failing  oil 

Upwafts  the  wasteful  flame, 
Unclothed  of  sorceries  I  toil, 
.  Yet  breathe  the  HOLY  NAME. 
And  art  thou  wroth  to  hear? 
And  dost  thou  quake  with  fear? 
Art  thou  that  hewer  of  the  rocks, 
That  builder  of  the  towers  of  Bel? 


MERLIN.  65 

s* 

Hast  thou  the  master-key  that  locks 

The  clanging  doors  of  Heaven  and  Hell? 
For  rapture  or  for  dole 
Thou  liest,  struck  with  steel, 
Thy  heart  beneath  my  heel! 
Art  thou  that  keeper  of  the  scroll 

Whereon  the  lightnings  write,— 
That  bids  thee  seize  and  chain  the  soul, 
Or  whirl  it,  starred,  from  sight? 
Though  thunders  seven  outpeal, 
I  break  the  seven-fold  seal. 

VIII. 
I  read :  "  W.\m  $ntfj  fjas  qncncbeb  b/ts  thirst 

Wfym  fUtrlin  strips  %  faint, 
H'ts  trustir  htnce  slr.il I  bin,  foho  first 
Has  namcb  i\t  |tame  ^ibirtt. 
Suns'  fatins  for  b,im  s^all 
|3«s'  ^oiuii  bim  sbull  fccb  : 


66  MERLIN. 

$  ast,  0tte,  full  strong  to  soar  anb  sink, 
Hcaben-faeileb  in  purples  bast  anb  bim, 
ill  break  b>  breab,  bill  abjure  bjs  brink, 
SHill  rise  anb  sfocctln  stribe  foitb  ^int ; 

gcar!-pimeb  totll  strike  fcim  baton,— 
®till  to^isper :  '  ffib/ra  sb^U  knofa, 
Jair-son,  mg  beal  anb  feoc ; 
gfealt  follob)  fe^cre  t^e  black  gobs  frobn, 
Self-soakeb  in  bitter  brine, 
\t$  nre  t^ere  plnnge  anb  beeplg  brofon, 
out  %  bloob  as  bine ; 
tBplift  t^cm  frienb  or  foe,— 
So  kiss  %at  fo^ite  as  snofe  ! '  " 


MASBIED.  67 


MARRIED. 

I. 

I  ENTERED  Broadway  where  the  rush  is  the 

greatest,— 

You  must  wait  by  St.  Paul's  ere  you  cross, 
Near  the  grave  stones  green-fretted  with  moss ; 
Lips  have  mouldered  long  decades  ago,  at  the 

latest, 

That  Love  used  to  kiss : 
The  dead  were  on  that  side,  the  living  on  this. 

II. 

Up  the  street  arm-in-arm  walked  a  man  and  a 

woman: 

Their  garments  were  ancient  and  odd: 
Centenarians  under  that  sod 


68  MARRIED. 

Might  have  fashioned  and  worn  them,  what  time 

they  were  human, 
And  dust  was  in  bloom: 

These  two,  they  were  old,  they  were  ripe  for  the 
tomb. 

III. 

Now  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  wondered  and  watched 

them: 
"  They  are  poor;  their  good  clothes  are  worn 

out; 

They  have  ransacked  the  garret,  no  doubt, — 
Mended  garbs  of  ancestress  and  ancestor,  botched 

them, 

But  so  done  their  best, 
Caught  in  Poverty 's  grip,  to  be  decently  dressed . ' ' 

IV. 

While  half  the  crowd  turned  to  look   after,  or 
tarried 


MARRIED.  69 

To  see  them  so  queerly  attired 
(Yet  the  camlet  had  once  been  admired), 
Some  wag  struck  an.  attitude,  crying:  "Just  mar 
ried, — 

And  off  on  a  tour!" 

Then  he  laughed  out  aloud,  like  a  jolly  young 
wooer. 

V. 

Ten  steps,  and  I  faced  the  twain,  each  to  each 

smiling: 

Amused,  as  it  seemed,  with  the  jest, 
And  meekly  content  for  the  rest: 
Dear  Love  in  one  moment  their  sorrows  exiling 

Down  fifty  years'  life 

To  that  glad  hour  when  GOD  said,  "  Be  husband 
and  wife." 

VI. 

And  if  ever  I  saw  how  Love's  glory  embrightened 
A  countenance,  wrinkles  and  tan, 


70  MARRIED. 

This  I  saw  in  the  smile  of  the  man 
As  he  looked  on  his  bride,  with  her  brown  hair  all 

whitened, 

Her  beauty  all  dim,— 
The  one  lovely  face  in  the  wide  world  for  him. 

VII. 

Ah,  but  for  his  help  how  the  worn  feet  had  stum 
bled! 

For  the  eyes  were  as  blind  as  a  stone 
That  had  dwelt  on  one  sweetheart  alone, — 
Her  sorry  old  bridegroom,  who  saw  her  so  hum- 

Hed, 

And  led  her  along 

As  a  king  leads  his  queen  through  the  midst  of 
the  throng. 

VIII. 

Just  married! — eternity  stretching  before  them; 
Suns  kindled  to  lure  them  from  earth; 


.     MARRIED.  71 

Full  wine-jars  for  second-day  mirth: 
Revered  be  the  vestments,  the  lovers  who  wore 

them — 

This  queen  and  this  king! 
GOD'S  host  will  their  epithalamium  sing. 


72  FAST  ASLEEP. 


FAST    ASLEEP. 

I. 

OH,  to  be  buried,  ever  so  deep, 

Under  the  myrtle  tree! 
Always  and  always  fast  asleep 
As  the  nereids  are  in  the  sea. 
With  the  ghostly  stories  of  earth  all  told, 
Caught  to  the  heart  of  the  matron  old, 
Veiled  in  her  lustrous  green  and  gold 

As  only  the  dead  can  be: 
Pale  and  pulseless,  mute  and  cold, 
Calm  as  the  sisters  three, 
Content  with  the  dread  decree, 
Nothing  to  do  or  dree. 

II. 

Oh,  to  be  lost  and  lost  and  lost 


FAST  ASLEEP.  73 

To  world  and  star  and  sun! 
To  river  and  forest,  flame  and  frost, 

To  battles  wasted  or  won; 
Lost  to  the  throbbing  of  hearts  elate, 
To  the  horror  of  lives  accursed  of  Fate, 
To  the  soul  I  love  and  the  face  I  hate, 

To  the  lips  I  seek  or  shun; 
Stilled  and  lying  in  awful  state, 
Shrouded  away  from  the  sun, 
With  a  shroud  of  the  white  fleece  spun,— 
Forever  and  ever  undone. 

III. 
Sweetly  the  nereids  rest  in  the  deep: 

Once  they  were  singers  proud; 
None  remember  the  eyes  asleep, 

Or  the  sea-harps  rich  and  loud. 
But  they  sang  till  the  dwellers  of  isle  and  town 
Sank  in  the  wild  wave,  fain  to  drown, 
And  they  sang  till  the  cruel  mermen  brown 


FAST  ASLEEP. 

Were  a  weeping,  wondering  crowd; 
And  they  sang  and  they  sang  till  the  gods  came 

down 

In  fire  to  the  singers  proud, 
And  the  sky  to  the  sea  was  bowed, 
And  the  sea  was  a  crimson  cloud. 

IV. 
Hither,  come  hither,  marvellous  Death, 

Under  the  myrtle  tree : 
With  lips  that  never  have  breathed  a  breath, 

Drop  honey  of  kisses  free; 
Till  the  last,  last  terrible  story  is  told, 
And  I  creep  to  the  heart  of  the  matron  old, 
Wrapped  in  her  rustling  green  and  gold, 

Always  and  always  free: 
Grand  and  griefless,  pure  and  cold, 
As  only  the  dead  can  be; 
Wan  as  the  sisters  three, 
Or  the  nerieds  under  the  sea. 


FAST  ASLEEP.  75 

V. 

Buried — and  never  a  bell  will  toll, 
However  the  wind  may  sweep : 
Bat  always  the  world  will  roll  and  roll, 

And  the  tides  around  her  creep. 
And  never  a  dweller  of  isle  or  town 
Will  mourn  because  of  our  lost  renown, 
And  never  a  murmuring1  merman  brown 

Will  sorrow  under  the  deep, 
Nor  sigh;  no,  not  if  the  gods  come  down 
From  the  heights  so  far  and  steep, 
For  a  songless  world  to  weep! 
And  we  shall  be  fast  asleep. 


76       FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH. 


FROM   SAURIAN  TO   SERAPH. 

I. 

'T  WAS  a  poor  blacksmith  did  the  work  before; 

The  pony  interferes:  you'll  please  get  down; 
I  served  apprenticeship  seven  years  or  more 

In  London,  ere  Victoria  wore  the  crown, 
And  I  can  shoe  a  horse  with  any  man. 

[Whoa  there!  stand  still!]  ....    I  saw  you 

on  the  road; 
You  ride  as  well  as  any  lady  can, — • 

And  he's  a  trim  beast,  worthy  such  a  load. 

II. 
Fine  day  for  riding:  how  the  sun  laughs  out! 

Look  at  those  rapids,  glittering  down  the  fall. 
And  have  you  heard  the  birds?  they  shout  and 
shout — 


FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH.       77 

Sun,  birds,  and  waters — well,  I  love  them  all. 
Yet  once  I  was  a  brute:  what  was  a  bird, 

That  I  should  stay" to  watch  him  in  his  flight  ? 
Forty-two  battles  I've  been  in,  and  heard 

My  horse's  hoofs  clang  hard  through  every  fight. 

III. 
Oh,  then  I  had  rich  times!  then  I  was  proud! 

You  should  have  seen:  the  sabre  in  my  hand 
Was  just  one  red,  and  dripping  like  a  cloud! 

There  never  was  a  life  so  glad  and  grand. 
But  when  the  last  ball's  ricochet  made  rout, 

And  the  last  shell  tore  up  the  bloody  sod, 
I  used  to  call  my  corps  of  blacksmiths  out 

And  drive  the  nails  till  every  beast  was  shod. 

IV. 

"Rest?"    Bless  you!  have  such  creatures  need 

of  rest? 
Look,  girl !  you've  heard  of  that  old  Saurian  age 


78        FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH. 

When  scaly  monsters  crowded  breast  to  breast 
And  tusk  to  tusk  in  one  destroying  rage  ? 

I  do  believe  that  mad,  blind,  battling  force 
That  smote  so  at  the  bass  of  earth's  great  harp, 

Through  finer  ages  rolled  its  cloudy  course, 
And  shook  my  frame  with  thunder  swift  and 
sharp. 

V. 

For  there's  a  law  that  sums  each  cycle — gives 

Its  full,  stern  impulse  to  the  life  beyond; 
And  every  spirit,  weak  or  strong,  that  lives 

Is  nerved  to  feel  such  urgings  and  respond. 
Oh,  they  refine,  I  grant,  through  starry  fire ! 

The  Saurian  rage  that  lights  a  seraph's  eyes 
Is  just  that   still  white   flame  that  sends   him 
higher, 

With  "Alleluia!  "  challenging  the  skies. 

VI. 

That  for  the  seraph:  but  for  me  you  know, 


FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH.        79 

Why  I  was  in  the  sloughs — a  very  brute! 
In  stifling  airs  my  soul  began  to  grow, 

Mire-clogged — as  all  GOD'S  grandeur  to  refute! 
Yet  more  than  Saurian  in  spite  of  all : 

I  felt  the  winds  blow  cooler  now  and  then; 
Down  the  wide  wastes  heard  far  sweet  voices  call, 

And  knew  my  beasts  and  dimly  yearned  for  men. 

VII. 
I'll  drop  my  metaphors:  you'll  understand 

I  served  ten  years  because  I  loved  to  slay; 
And  having  fought,  was  fed.     Oh,  it  was  grand ! 

My  brutish  blood  ran  richer  day  by  day. 
I  had  a  Quaker  mother  ....  well,  she  died: 

I  think  till  then  she  never  lived — in  me. 
My  father  and  myself  fought  side  by  side, 

Grim  battle-mates :  small  chance  for  her,  you  see. 

VIII. 

But  after  death  I  saw  her — where  she  came, 
A  spirit  pale,  right  through  niy  furnace-heat: 


80        FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH. 

"  Such  fire  and  no  one  warmed?    0  son,  for 
shame!" 

And  I  fell  down  and  trembled  at  her  feet. 
That  proved  me  man;  for  mark,  no  beast  will  wake 

At  call  of  angels!   I  began  to  stir, 
And  question  of  the  sloughs  what  way  to  take 

If  I  might  rise  and  follow  after  her. 

IX. 

I  left  the  service  when  my  time  was  out, 

And  crossed  from  Canada  to  settle  down; 
But  I  could  only  drift  and  drift  about, 

And  wander  drearily  from  town  to  town. 
One  day  it  chanced  I  came  upon  a  crowd 

Mobbing  an  orator — a  boorish  gang: 
"  Bring  on  your  rotten  eggs!"  one  called  aloud; 

"We  '11  hear  no  Abolitionist  harangue." 

X. 

Well,  I  went  in  for  sport:  I  filled  my  hat 


FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH.        81 

And  shot  out  straight  (I  never  miss  my  aim); 
It  struck  the  man  between  the  eyes, — at  that 

A  laugh  went  roaring  upward  like  a  flame. 
Just  then  a  hand  fell  softly  on  my  head: 

"My  man,  has  thee  no  better  wares  to  vend?" 
I  turned  (an  egg  half-raised):  "  Let  be!  "  he  said; 

"  Thee  does  n't  know  what  thee  is  doing,  friend.1' 

XI. 

Oh,  how  ashamed  I  was ! — dyed  red  clear  through ! 

I  felt  as  small  as  any  crawling  worm. 
Meantime  a  shower  of  stones  above  me  flew: 

"  Yon  fellow  '11  flinch,"  I  thought;  but  he  stood 

firm. 
Then  like  a  lion  startled  with  the  hunt, 

Whose  sudden  voice  will  strike  the  Arabs -mute, 
All  quivering  wrath,  I  bounded  to  the  front: 

The  very  man  in  me  unleashed  the  brute  1 
6 


82       FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH. 

XII. 

What  happened  further?    Nay,  I  hardly  know! 

I  meant  just  slaughter.     "Touch  him  if1  you 

like!" 
I  roared :  "  Come  on !  I  '11  give  you  blow  for  blow ! 

Look!  here  's  a  British  fist!  now  feel  it  strike!  " 
I  routed  them — the  cowards !  made  them  fly 

Howling  as  if  the  world  was  like  to  end. 
And  then  I  found  my  Quaker:  "  Well,"  said  I; 

"  I  Ve  sold  my  wares!  "  He  laughed:  "  Thee 's 
valiant,  friend; 

XIII. 

"  Thee  'd  better  keep  with  us;  we  '11  do  th.ee  good. " 
And  So  they  did:    A  truer  life  I  found, 

Caught  at  the  golden  lines  of  brotherhood 
And  scrambled  from  the  mire  to  safer  ground. 

You  see  those  Quaker  mothers  took  me  in, 
And  fed  me,  starving,  with  the  holy  bread 


FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH.        83 

Christ  brake  among  the  twelve;  and  what  can  win 
Like  those  dear  words  the  lowly  Master  said? 

XIV. 
And  there  I  learned  the  story  of  the  slave 

(That  earthquake-tremor  sure  to  rend  the  land); 
And,  signing  me  that  I  should  haste  to  save, 

In  every  cloud  I  saw  my  mother's  hand; 
In  every  wind  I  heard  her  voice:  " My  son: 

And  will  thy  boasted  strength  but  serve  to  slay'? 
Under  the  cross  of  labor,  scourged,  undone, 

They  need  thee  who  have  fallen  by  the  way.'' 

XV. 

So  many  years  I  kept  the  secret  track, 
To  guide  those  stray  big  negroes  into  rest; 

And  when  their  masters  followed,  sent  them  back 
The  poorer  by  a  slave  or  two  at  best. 

But  sometimes,  when  pursuit  was  fierce  and  hot, 
I  caught  some  cruel  fellow  with  a  grip, 


84       FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH. 

And  bound  him  hand  and  foot:  I  kept  my  shot 
For  bloodhounds — but  I  lent  his  slaves  my  whip. 

XVI. 
For  I  was  brutal  still :  and  yet  I  learned 

All  Blackstone  in  those  days,  and  much  of  Coke; 
I  read  the  histories  where  their  battles  burned, 

And  laid  me  under   Shakespeare's  "  gnarled 

oak," 
(Whose  acorns  sprout  in  every  soil  to  make 

The  round  earth  green!);  loved  Junius,  Cicero, 
And  Whittier;  made  the  sober  Quakers  quake 

For  laughter,  with  my  violin  and  bow. 

XVII. 
Meanwhile  I  took  a  wife; — for  what's  a  man 

With  all  his  loves  at  dry-rot  in  his  heart? 
Unseasoned  timbers — bound  to  mar  the  plan 

And  sink  the  ship,  however  fair  the  chart. 
But  a  good  wife  is  like  a  strong  sweet  breeze 


FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH.        85 

That  searches  in  and  out  and  keeps  all  right: 
Ah,  yes!  and  fills  the  sails  till  childly  seas 
Leap  up  and  clap  their  hands  in  sheer  delight! 

XVIII. 

There's  nothing  like  a  wife;  and  mine's  a  queen. 

When  from  his  egg  that  huge  war-python  crept, 
She  let  me  go;  and  yet  if  you  had  seen 

How  hard  it  was,  I  think  you  would  have  wept. 
But  I — my  happy  heart  beat  fast  and  loud 

(Made  greater  by  Love's  ichor  in  the  veins), 
To  share — my  horse  and  I — through  fire  and  cloud 

That  world- wide  rapture  of  the  hurricanes. 

XIX. 

I  never  blame  the  Rebels:  but  be  sure 
I  do  not  blame  myself  for  shooting  them. 

There's  not  a  wind  in  Heaven  so  cool  and  pure, 
It  has  not  brushed  some  martyr's  blazing  hem ! 

There's  not  a  waving  flower  throughout  the  skies 


86       FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH. 

So  white,  it  is  not  rooted  deep  in  mud! 
Between  the  suns  there's  not  a  seraph  flies 
That  somehow,  somewhere,  did  not  wade  in 
bloodl 

XX. 

Why,  even  you — bright- glancing — you,  who  stand 

So  lightly  poised,  like  any  forest-bird, 
That  if  you  did  not  urge  me  (voice  and  hand 

And  ardent  eye),  I  should  not  speak  a  word 
For  fear  you  'd  soar!   There  '11  come  a  time  you'll 
set 

Those  milky  teeth — will  clasp  your  girdle  well, 
And  on  the  nearest  stone  the  knife  you  '11  whet 

To  flay  some  scarlet  dragon  late  from  Hell! 

XXI. 

But,  grander  still,  from  out  your  gold  you'll  sift 
That  sand  of  self,  the  whole  deep  mountain 
through: 


FROM  SA  URIAN  TO  SERAPH.        87 

Because  of  Love,  such  weights  of  care  you'll  lift, 

The  sweat  of  blood  will  gather  fast  as  dew. 
GOD  help  you,  girl!  for  all  the  deaths  you'll  dare; 
Wind,  frost  and  flood,  serpent  and  beast  you'll 

greet: 

Till  one  shall  come  and  hale  you  by  the  hair 
Straight  to  the  fagots  !  .  .  .  .  There's  the  secret 
sweet. 

XXII. 

I've  guessed  it  partly.    Pausing  in  the  fight 
One  day,  behold  ray  mother  standing  near! 
And  all  around  her  played  such  tongues  of  light 

As  would  have  made  the  bravest  martyr  fear. 
More  pallid  than  the  dead,  and  waving  slow 
Her  hands  toward  the  South:  "I  bore  thee, 

eftiU," 
She  said,  "with  bitter  pangs:    but  thou  shah 

know 

A  larger  grief  than  mine!" — and  then  she 
smiled. 


88       FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH. 

XXIII. 
Now,  when  my  soul  from  that  dread  trance  awoke 

(Low  reeling  in  the  saddle,  reins  all  slack), 
A  man  I  loved  came  plunging  through  the  smoke 

With  half  a  score  of  Rebels  on  his  track. 
I  flung  between;  I  galloped  to  and  fro; 

Broad  sweeps  of  sabre  barred  the  fell  pursuit : 
But  so  they  took  me  prisoner;  caged  me  so 

All  bleeding;  starved  me  as  a  jungle  brute. 

XXIV. 

Two  summers  .  . . .  "  What  of  them?  "    Hush  ! 
never  wish 

To  read  those  inky  tablets  of  the  flood; 
Down  by  the  altar  set  no  silver  dish 

To  catch  the  dripping  of  the  bullock's  bloocl ; 
Ask  not  of  fires  that  drank  all  currents  up, 

Aye,  emptied  out  the  hollows  of  the  sea! 
Nor  dare  with  those  young  lips  to  press  the  cup 

They  drain  who  travail  in  Gethsemane! 


FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH.        89 

XXV. 

They  brought  me  home,  an  idiot,  to  my  wife; 

My  children  kissed  me,  and  I  did  not  know. 
Just  one  last  drop  was  in  the  springs  of  life, 

And  long  they  watched  if  any  wave  could  flow. 
It  came  at  last — slow  rising  to  the  brim, 

The  deep  sweet  fountain  drawn  through  veins 

of  Death, 
Out  of  that  dear  abundant  Heart  of  Him 

MOST  CALM,  who  lives  all  life,  who  breathes  all 
breath. 

XXVI. 

And  now  I  blow  the  coals,  I  pare  the  hoof 
(GoD  labors;  so  must  we);  I  come  and  go; 

But  when  some  lightning  rends  this  rainy  roof— 
An  instant  stroke  (they  say  it  will  be  so), — 

Ah,   then,   all   drenched    and  charred  beneath, 

above 
All  supple  grace! — who  knows  what  holy  cheei 


90       FROM  SAURIAN  TO  SERAPH. 

Of  kisses  me  will  greet?  what  whorls  of  Love 
Will    fold   me  round,   sphere  rolled  on  rosy 
sphere  ? 

XXVII. 
This  certain:    That  dread  Power,  so  prone  to 

waste, 

That  bids  the  Saurian  gnash  devouring  teeth, 
The  gunner  plant  his  guns,  the  martyr  haste 

To  perish  in  the  fagots'  flaming  sheath, 
Nerves  still  some  white  and  virile  hand  that  flings 

Wide  open  all  the  gateways  of  the  sky; 
Rounds  out  some  seraph's  voice,  the  while  he 

sings 
His  "Holy,  holy  is  the  LORD  MOST  HIGH!  " 


WE  TWAIN.  91 


WE     TWAIN. 

I. 

OH,  Earth  and  Heaven  are  far  apart! 

But  what  if  they  were  one, 
And  neither  you  nor  I,  Sweetheart, 

Had  anyway  niisdone? 
When  we  like  singing  rivers  fleet 

That  cannot  choose  but  flow, 
Among  the  flowers  should  meet  and  greet, 

Should  meet  and  mingle  so, 

Sweetheart, 
That  would  be  sweet,  I  know. 

II. 

No  need  to  swerve  and  drift  apart, 
Or  any  bliss  resign : 


92  WE  TWAIN. 

Then  I  should  all  be  yours,  Sweetheart, 

And  you  would  all  be  mine. 
But  ah,  to  rush,  defiled  and  brown, 
From  thaw  of  smirched  snow, 
To  spoil  the  corn,  beat  down  and  drown 
The  rath  red  lilies  low,  — 

Sweetheart, 
I  do  not  want  you  so! 

III. 
For  you  and  I  are  far  apart, 

And  never  may  we  meet, 
Till  you  are  glad  and  grand,  Sweetheart, 

Till  I  am  fair  and  sweet; 
Till  morning-light  has  kissed  us  white 

As  highest  Alpine  snow, 
Till  both  are  brave  and  bright  of  sight, 
Go  wander  high  or  low, 

Sweetheart; 
For  GOD  will  have  it  so. 


WE  TWAIN.  93 

IV. 
Oh,  Heaven  and  Earth  are  far  apart! 

If  you  are  bond  or  free, 
And  if  you  climb  or  crawl,  Sweetheart, 

Can  no  way  hinder  me. 
But  see  you  come  in  lordly  state, 

With  mountain  winds  aglow, 
When  I  by  dazzling  gate  shall  wait 
To  meet  and  love  you  so, 

Sweetheart,— 
That  will  be  Heaven,  I  know. 


94  A  MORNING  MADRIGAL. 


A    MORNING    MADRIGAL. 

I. 

MY  cottage-roof  with  flickering  green  is  draped, 
Whose  sun-drawn  tides,  in  haste  to  reach  the 

light, 

Have  burst  their  viny  channels,  whence  escaped 
They  roll  their  gold  and  scarlet  into  sight. 

0  foliage,  rich  with  bloom, 

Sail  in  on  fragrant  airs,  and  grace  my  curtained 
room! 

II. 
How  tenderly  they  live — these  underlings! 

Lo,  on  the  new -rosed  brier,  an  oriole  guest, 
Wing-weary,  flutters  down  and  sings  and  sings 
As  if  all  Heaven  were  in  his  little  breast. 

Ah,  sweet  and  very  sweet! 
Trill  on,  delicious  voice, — the  silence  still  defeat. 


A  MORNING  MADRIGAL.  95 

III. 

But  he  is  dead — iny  love,  who  made  the  earth 

Yield  me  all  rosy  marvels  of  the  year; 
Who  fed  with  laughter  sweet  life's  morning- 
mirth; 
Who  filled  my  cup  with  dripping  honeys  clear, 

Who  made  all  pleasures  mine, — 
The  hearth,  the  green-roofed  hall,  and  Love's  white 
lamp  to  shine. 

IV. 
He  lies  upon  the  trestles,  calm  as  Fate : 

But  not  the  less  burn  red,  thou  clinging  vine; 
His  lips  move  not — their  music  died  of  late : 
Yet  keep  the  brier,  thou  bird,  astir  with  thine; 

Be  glad,  0  world,  and  fair! 
So  may  this  loving  soul  awhile  his  flight  forbear. 

V. 
Cast  by  the  trailing  sheet  that  hides  the  dead, 


96  A  MOBNING  MADRIGAL. 

Low  sleeps  my  boy,  who  bears  his  honored 

name; 

The  yellow  ringlets  blown  about  his  head, 
His  checks  a  scarlet  miracle  of  flame; 

The  fallen  hands  at  rest 

In  drifts  of  blossoms  culled  to  deck  the  shrouded 
breast. 

VI. 

Forgotten  purpose:  Yet  how  sweet  they  are! 
Such  flowers  as  children  love — the  creamy 

phlox, 

Fiery  nasturtion-blooms  that  flash  afar, 
And  candytufts  and  ruby  hollyhocks, 

And  great  carnations  red 

As  if  their  veins  ran  rich  with  blood  of  Summers 
dead. 

VII. 

His  tears  are  spent — my  darling!  let  him  sleep: 
Soft  be  his  dreaming  as  the  breath  of  flowers. 


A  MORNING  MADRIGAL.  97 

Across  his  curls  a  shadowy  hand  will  creep, 
Athrob  with  purer,  finer  life  than  ours. 

0  earth,  your  joys  arraign! 
With  light  and  luminous  threads  this  passing  soul 
detain. 

VIII. 

For  oh,  to  feel  him  gone! — some  upward  way, 

Strown  white  with  lilies  for  his  wandering  feet; 
Heaven's  rippling  rivers  dashed  in  snowy  spray, 
And  every  flying  breeze  with  treble  sweet: 

So  fair,  so  far  and  fair, 

Remembrance  well  might  sink  and  slumber  una 
ware. 

IX. 

Ah,  wrong  him  not,  poor  heart!  since  Love 
alone, 

Whose  thoughts  are  all  familiar  with  the  sun, 
Can  face  with  tranquil  eyes  that  Summer-zone 

Where  sunk  in  flowers  the  living  waters  run. 


98  A  MORNING  MADRIGAL. 

He  draws  me  while  he  soars; 
My  soul,  half-sainted,  floats  and  nears  seraphic 
shores. 

X. 

Be  strong,  my  soul,  for  Love  is  ever  strong; 

Draw  him  and  all  his  life  of  beauteous  days : 

Thy  wistful  sighs  shall  thrill  his  world  of  song, 

Thy  smiles  shall  light  its  lily-whitened  ways. 

Behold,  all  hours  we  share; 
He  conscious  of  the  earth,  and  I  of  Heaven  aware ! 


CROQUET. 


CROQUET. 

I. 

GATE  carved  in  granite,  with  griffins  at  rest, 
Arches  built  grandly  to  welcome  the  guest, 
Elm-guarded  avenue,  dim  as  sea-caves, 
Sweep  of  quaint  bridges  and  rush  of  clear  waves, 
Group  of  acacias,  dark  cluster  of  pines, 
Mansion  half-whelmed  in  a  torrent  of  vines, 
Fountain  a  shower  of  fire,  lake  a  soft  gloom, 
Garden  unrolling  broad  ribbons  of  bloom, 
Lawn  smooth  as  satin  and  air  cool  as  spray, — 
Roland  and  Christabel  deep  in  croquet  1 

II. 

Christabel — Roland,  the  flower  of  our  clan, 
Noble  and  bountiful, — match  them  who  can. 


ICO  CROQUET. 

He  fleet  and  supple,  yet  strong  as  young  Saul; 

She  in  ten  thousand  the  fairest  of  all; 

He  quick  to  anger,  but  loving  and  leal; 

She  true  and  tender,  though  tempered  like  steel; 

Both  of  all  weathers,  fine  dew  and  fierce  hail, 

Ice  on  the  mountain  and  flowers  in  the  vale: 

All  their  still  frostiness  melted  away, 

Just  for  that  nonsense — a  game  of  croquet! 

III. 

Only  croquet?    Never  trust  to  the  game, 
Kindling  such  raillery,  feeding  such  flame; 
Keeping  such  bird-bolts  of  laughter  in  flight, 
Tossing  such  roses  of  battle  in  sight! 
Roland  in  triumph  and  ready  to  scoff, 
Christabel  poising  her  mallet  far-off, 
Ball  speeding  on  with  the  wind  in  its  wake, 
Smiting  its  rival  and  hitting  the  stake ! 
Who  is  the  victor?    Proud  Roland,  at  bay, 
Captures  the  hand  that  has  won  at  croquet. 


CROQUET.  101 

IV. 

Now  is  their  magic  enchainment  complete; 
Haughty,  shy  Christabel — far-away  sweet, 
Caught  in  that  wind  from  the  Aidenn  of  souls, 
Blushes  rose-bright  as  red  snow  of  the  poles ! 
Out  of  all  lovers  match  these  if  you  can; — 
Spotless,  great-hearted,  the  flower  of  our  clan. 
If   they  should    quarrel — half-right   and   half- 
wrong — 

Oaks  root  them  deeper  when  breezes  are  strong. 
Now  may  Love  lead  them  away  and  away, 
Through  the  wide  Heavens,  from  that  game  of 
croquet! 


102  FREDDIE. 


FREDDIE. 

I. 

PRECIOUS  FREDDIE,  just  breathing  his  last, 
Gave  one  and  another  his  wee  hand  to  kiss; 
Looked  long  at  mamma,  and  so  lovingly  passed, 
Fearing  height  nor  abyss. 

II. 

But  what  of  the  babe  after  this? 
Did  the  small-featured  cherubim  haste  and  make 

room? 

Did  any  uphold  him,  lest  aught  he  should  miss 
Of  the  blaze  and  the  bloom, — 

III. 
Dust  rendered  to  dust  in  the  tomb? 


FREDDIE.  103 

Oh,  sweet,  through  GOD'S  silence,  to  ponder  and 

dream 
With  what  gradual  glory,  through  vanishing 

gloom, 
His  good-morrow  might  gleam! 

IV. 

Not  thro'  sepulchre  door-ways  would  stream, 

In  one  burst,  all  that  excellence.    Bather,  I  think, 

Little  Freddie  would  wake  at  some  wandering 

beam 
Darting  in  past  the  chink: 

V. 

While  down  on  his  breast  there  would  sink 
Some  rich- tinted  flower,  and  khe,  drowsy,  would 

•       peer 
Through  the  shadows,  each  way,  to.  see  who 

dropped  the  pink; 
Reach  out  hands,  have  no  fear, — 


104  FREDDIE. 

VI. 

And  the  Presence  would  smile  and  draw  near. 
So  lifted,  caressed,  he  would  nestle  and  cling, 
Drop  lids,  fall  on  slumber  as  babes  do  who  hear 
The  hushed  mother-voice  sing. 

VII. 

Now  indeed  would  the  grave-doors  out-swing, 
And  the  .dawn  break:  but  Freddie,  asleep,  would 

not  know, 
Till  some  soft  hand  magnetic  would  wave,  as  a 

wing, 
To  and  fro,  to  and  fro, 

VIII. 

Over  infantine  limbs,  and  the  flow 
Of  new  life-tides,  like  quicksilver  streams,  would 

rush  through, 
Charged  with  vigor  angelic;  the  wan  face  would 

grow 
Like  June-roses  in  hue, — 


FREDDIE.  105 

IX. 

Blush-lovely,  yet  cool  as  the  dew. 
Then  the  child  would  leap  up,  brave  to  traverse 

the  spheres — 
Bright  or  dark,  so  they  led  to  the  dear  ones  he 

Knew, 
Sitting  blinded  with  tears! 

X. 

When  we  wake  atrtheend  of  our  years, 
In  the  half-open  tomb,  dropping  pinks,  will  he 

stand? 
Hearl-thrilled  with   babe -laughter,  forgetting 

our  fears, 
Shall  we  kiss  his  wee  hand? 


106  DAWN. 


DAWN. 

I. 
Too  LONG  has  been  the  night;  my  veins  are  chill; 

Unhappy,  scaring  dreams  have  wasted  sleep. 
For  buried  Memory  would  have  her  will, 

Cross  grave-yard  bounds,  wring  ghostly  hands 

and  weep 
About  the  keeping-places  of  Desire, 

Lamenting  murdered  Love;  winds  without  rest 
Would  shrill  thro'  ruined  rooms,  where  never  fire 

Upon  the  hearth  flames  up  for  heir  or  guest. 

II. 
I  will  arise,  go  forth  and  meet  the  sun : 

Astarte  whitens  heaven,  and,  where  the  sea 
Steals  round  the  world,  pellucid  ripples  run: 

I  will  arise,  fling  open  doors — go  free. 
Already  shoots  the  gold  athwart  the  sky, 

Already  breaks  the  scarlet  through  the  foam; 


DAWN.  107 

Lo,  lightly  loosed,  the  wavering  shadows  fly, 

Flits  out  the  darkness  from  the  desolate  home! 
A  nd  we  are  glad,  are  glad,  my  heart  and  I, 

And  we  are  glad,  are  glad,  and  fain  to  roam, — 
To  quit  the  ivied,  haunted,  skeleton-place, 

The  spidery  mansion,  rafterless  and  lone; 
To  flee  that  ancient  woe  of  pictured  face, 

These  hoLow-sighing  halls  where  spectres  moan. 

III. 

Already  chirpers  cry  and  warblers  sing, 

Already  lilies  weep  and  roses  blush: 
Higher  and  higher,  through  the  skies  a-swing, 

Shines  the  sun-pendulum.    I  leap,  I  rush 
Out  from  the  chambers,  down  the  swerving  stair! 

My  heart  and  I  escape  the  falling  towers. 
Already  wings  of  eagles  beat  the  air; 

I  run,  I  laugh,  I  bury  feet  in  flowers. 
0  welcome,  welcome,  welcome  infinite  Light! 
It  is  the  dawn :  too  long  has  been  the  night. 


108  HOSES. 


EOSES. 

I. 

IN  that  garden  of  yours  by  the  sea 

You  have  willed  shall  be  mine  when  we  wed 
(So  kingly  your  gracious  decree!) 

There  are  "  roses  on  roses,"  you  said; 
I  can  fancy  their  opulent  grace, 
Where  they  glimmer — each  one  in  her  place: 
Mystic  roses  ....  These  lavish  of  red 

(One  would  say  their  hearts  bled); 
Those  deeper — a  skyful  of  light 

Would  not  alter  their  night; 
Here  yellow — gold-leaf  newly  shred 

(Egypt  mourning  her  dead); 
There  white — calyx-coffined,  struck  through 
With  that  grief  of  the  dew: 


SOSES.  109 

Ah,  sweet,  deathly  sweet  they  must  be, 
In  that  garden  of  yours  by  the  sea! 

II. 

But  wait— I  have  somewhat  to  say: 

Forgive  while  the  bitter  winds  blow; 
I  have  heard  of  your  roses  to-day, — 
"Who  gathered  them  Summers  ago: 
Who,  fain  in  your  Heaven  to  dwell, 
Was  caught  in  the  flames  of  your  Hell; 

Wrapped  around,  all  her  raiment  of  snow 

Strown  in  ashes  below; 
Drenched  with  tears  and  left  ghastly  and 

stark, 

Just  to  die  in  the  dark! 
I  have  heard, — for  a  fountain,  you  know, 

Once  opened,  will  flow, 
Till,  however  far  off,  you  may  fill 
The  white  cup,  if  you  will. 


110  ROSES. 

I  have  drunk  those  salt  waters  astray: 
You  will  wait — I  have  somewhat  to  say. 

III. 

First:  spare  me  your  evil- wrought  shield — 

Gules  on  azure!  ....  I  know  the  device 

When  a  knight  like  yourself  takes  the  field, 

And  the  trumpets  bray  out  in  a  trice; 
When  heralds  and  pursuivants  meet, 
Through  a  babble  of  voices  too  sweet: 

"  Look!  his  armor  was  bought  with  a  price! 

Be  not  over-nice:  " — 
Though  down  in  your  donjon  so  deep, 

Awake  or  asleep, 
Lies  that  dragon  whom  nought  will  suffice, 

And  they  see  you  entice 
Fair  maidens  to  thrust  in  at  need 

(For  a  dragon  must  feed!) .... 
Nay,  close  your  barred  visor,  sit  steeled; 
But  down  with  your  blood-blotted  shield! 


HOSES.  Ill 

IV. 
I,  a  woman,  will  hurl  out  my  lance, 

Though  a  worldful  of  hisses  should  greet. 
DL1  I  love  you  this  morning,  perchance? 

Did  I  blush  when  your  kisses  were  sweet? 
Oh,  we  of  the  roses  will  glow 
In  all  lights — from  above  or  below; 
And  ever  Hell's  lava-tides  beat 

Close  under  our  feet! 
But  you  of  the  fires  never  quail 
Though  we  shrivel  and  fail, 
When  your  wiverns  and  griffins  we  meet 

In  their  cursed  red  heat! 
To  your  donjon,  0  Knight  of  renown, 

Shall  I  follow  you  down  ? 
All  that  dragonish  craving  enhance  ? 
As  for  me,  I  will  hurl  out  my  lance. 

V. 

For  what  is  this  miracle-rose 


112  HOSES. 

Of  womanhood  holy  and  white, 
But  the  marvel  of  GOD,  where  he  glows 

In  the  bush,  and  we  kneel  at  the  sight! 
Where  His  spirit,  unsearchable,  breathes 
Creative,  through  luminous  sheathes, 
Till  souls  are  revealed  out  of  night 

In  such  glory  of  light, 
His  prophet  would  put  off  the  shoe !  .  .  . 

But  prophets  like  you 
Snatch  all  cressets  to  quicken  the  flight 

Of  that  Pagan  fire-fright, 
When  your  victims  lie,  strangled  and  pale, 

On  the  alters  of  Baal. 
See  Egypt's  brute-god  where  he  lows! 
Shall  he  trample  earth's  miracle-rose? 

VI. 
All  is  said:  You  will  pass  from  my  door. 

What?  you  cry  that  you  love  me,  and  cling? 
All  ashamed  of  that  armor  you  wore, 


MOSES.  113 

At  my  feet  casque  and  corslet  you  fling? 
Rise :  Here  is  a  ROSE  for  your  shield : 
Ride  away  to  your  donjon,  new-steeled; 

Unchain  that  fell  beast,-~loose  the  wing, 

Bid  the  drawbridge  out-swing; 
Full  fair  in  the  face  of  the  sun 
Be  your  fierce  battle  won; 
Strike  his  heart  till  its  currents  you  bring 

Spouting  hot  from  their  spring; 
Wash  away  your  attainture  of  shame 

In  that  river  of  flame : 
So  come  to  me,  dipped  in  bright  gore! 
I  will  love  you.  ....  Pass  out  from  my  door. 


114  LOVE'S  LARGESS. 


LOVE'S    LARGESS. 

I. 

SAY  not  you  love  me :  spare  to  speak  with  guile : 
Too  well  your  faltering  speech  and  failing  smile 
Betray  Love's    secret    want.      "  This  shel 
tered  niche," 

(Sighs  the  lone  soul),  "this  haunt  with  ver 
dure  rich, 

Is  all  so  sweet  I  needs  must  rest  awhile, 
And  from  these  silver-heavy  mosses  wile 
Their  slow,  cool  drops :  because  my  thirst  is 

great, 

Content  to  curve  the  hand  and  woo  and  wait. 
But  oh,  to  find  some  ruddy-templed  isle, 
Palm-rooted  in  the  lotos-laving  Nile! 


LOVE'S  LARGESS.  115 

And  oh,  to  leap  and  plunge  in  that  divine  white 

rush 
From  Afric's  golden  peaks,  with  fiery  clouds  a- 

flush!" 

II. 

Nay,  springs  lie  deep,  and  hearts  are  not  so  small.' 
Behold  if  any  love  me,  he  shall  call — 

Osiris  unto  Isis  through  the  dawn 
"  Arise!  my  world  awaits, — its  veil  withdrawn, 
Its  ghastly  coverts  bared  from  wall  to  wall, 
Its  deserts  unredeemed,  its  gods  in  thrall. 
Be  certain  there  are  monsters  in  the  seas, 
And  eagles  on  the  crags;  but  fear  not  these, 
Nor  let  the  wild  loud- laughing  storms  appall: 
For  I  am  with  you — I,  who  rule  them  all." 
Then  shall  I  hear  and  answer,  breaking  from  the 

gloom, 

"I  come  with  all  sweet  waves:  make  broad  your 
paths  Tor  bloom! " 


116  ONE  NIGHT. 


ONE    NIGHT. 

I. 

As  ONE  whose  indolent  hand  forgets  to  hold 
A  falling  flower,  I  loosed  the  rose  of  sleep; 

Across  my  lips  I  felt  the  night-breath,  cold 
With  spray  of  reefs,  and  heard  the  restless  deep 

Troubling  the  shore  with  movings  manifold: 
I  dropped  the  rose  of  sleep. 

II. 

Straightway  mine 'eyes  I  raised:    Before  my  bed 
One  moved, — I  saw  the  moonlight  in  her  hair: 

I,  turned.    The  watcher's  waxen  torch  was  dead; 
He  dreamed,  forgetful,  in  his  velvet  chair. 

"  It  was  no  wafture  of  the  wind,"  I  said; 
"  The  light  was  in  her  hair.'' 


ONE  NIGHT.  117 

III. 
Then  I  bethought  me  of  the  fever-fire 

That  lately  burned  my  life, — but  I  was  calm; 
I  wearied  not,  nor  wasted  with  desire 

Of  mountain-snow  or  breath-reviving  balm; 
My  heart  beat  lightly  as  a  lover's  lyre, 
And  all  my  veins  were  calm. 

IV. 

I  looked  beyond  my  window's  trailing  sprays 
(Stirred  by  that  gust  of  passion  from  the  sea) : 

I  saw  the  grandeur  of  those  heavenly  ways 
That  wait  the  ghostly  journeyings  of  the  FKEE, 

The  forest-circling  drifts  of  fallen  haze, 
The  gray  and  gusty  sea. 

V. 
As  one  who  need  not  haste,  the  moon  on  high 

Crossed  the  blue  space  from  stellar  sign  to  sign: 
I  saw  her  heedful  acolytes  supply 


118  ONE  NIGHT. 

The  feast  of  light:  full  softly  she  did  shine. 
From  thoughts  that  hurt,  the  moon,  that  crossed 

the  sky, 
Did  sign  me  with  a  sign. 

VI. 

"  On  such  a  night,"  I  mused,  "for  angels  meet, 
0  Love  long-lost!  we  heard  the  trampling  deep; 

And  what  we  said  the  angels  will  repeat, 
When  in  their  snowy  arms  we  lie  asleep: 

Not  Death  shall  drown  us  from  their  voices  sweet, 
Albeit  his  floods  are  deep. 

VII. 
"  We  trod  the  surf -washed  promontory,  pale 

As  that  wan  foam  beneath  us :  we  must  part. 
Not  less  we  laughed — the  grief  to  countervail ; 
Sang  our  light  songs,  and  found  the  honeyed 

heart 

Of  many  a  blossomed  rhyme;  though  every  gale 
Went  whispering — we  must  part. 


ONE  NIGHT.  119 

VIII. 

"We  talked  of  desert-people;  how  they  make 
The  dewless  ways  their  place,  the  palm  their  tent, 

And  watch  the  red  sand- whirlwinds  overtake 
And  wrap  their  loaded  camels,  travel-spent. 

'  That  were  a  life  not  ill,'  we  gaily  spake: 
'  The  desert-palm  our  tent.1 

IX. 

"  We  told  of  wives  who  dare  the  torrid  glade, 
Nor  quake  to  hear  at  hand  the  lion  roar; 

Of  queens  who  walk  the  scaffold  undismayed, 
Whereon  their  loved  have  met  the  axe  before. 

'  It  were  not  hard  to  do, '  we  softly  said; 
'Love  heeds  no  lion's  roar.' 

X. 

"  At  this  we  turned, — and  lo,  that  plant  of  Love 
(The  fragrant  snow  of  snows),  was  all  in  flower! 

Its  opening  sweetness  while  we  leaned  to  prove, 
Our  first  long  kiss  sublimscl  the  regnant  hour. 


120  ONE  NIGHT. 

What  more  we  said  the  seraphs  sang  above; 
Love's  plant  was  all  in  flower. 

XI. 

"  Ah,  that  last  night!  '  Peace  crown  thee,  Sweet,' 

I  said: 

'  Behold,  her  moonbeams  linger  in  thine  hair! ' 
She  answered  low:  'When  past  is  all  we  dread, 
And  Heaven  for  thee  lets  down  its  bridges  fair, 
Thy  friend  will  wait  before  thy  silent  bed, 
The  moonlight  in  her  hair.'  " 

XII. 
"Will  wait."  ..."".  I  raised  mine  eyes:   the 

heavens  were  white; 
Against  his  reefs  I  saw  the  sea  prevail; 
And  borne  abroad,  those  wreathing  mists  of  night, 

Torn  in  the  wanton  wanderings  of  the  gale; 
Within  my  room  that  sanctitude  of  light: 
I  felt  my  soul  prevail. 


ONE  NIGHT.  121 

XIII. 
"Andartthou  here?"  I  cried;  "and  hast  thou 

crossed, 

For  me,  the  airy  boundaries  of  the  sky; 
With  summer-spiced  fruits  and  wines  of  cost, 

The  sweetness  of  thy  love  to  verify; 
To  kiss  the  lips  of  Death  and  melt  his  frost 
With  breathings  of  the  sky?  " 

XIV. 

Thereat,  with  haste,  a  gathering  darkness  came, 
In  which  the  sea  and  sky  were  wrapped  away, 

With  star  and  moony  disk:  save  one  fair  flame 
That  on  its  silver  plumage  made  delay. 

Ere  yet  my  soul  its  further  thought  could  frame, 
The  world  was  whelmed  away,— 

XV. 

Save  one  pure  flame:  I  saw  its  gleamy  light, 
Pale  as  the  shadeless  vesture  of  the  dead, 


122  ONE  NIGHT. 

Pause  and  beat  back  the  filming  waves  of  night, 
Thou  lost,  my  Love!  from  round  thy  drooping 

head. 

0  mine!  niy  friend!  swayed  from  seraphic  flight: 
And  I  had  called  thee  DEAD! 

XVI. 
What  subtle,  stealthy  tides  essayed  to  rise, 

That  all  my  soul  should  bathe  in  healing  dews  ? 
Beneath  the  tender  watching  of  thine  eyes, 

The  smiling  of  thy  lips,  I  could  not  choose 
But  lapse  into  the  rest  that  satisfies 
The  soul  with  balmy  dews. 

XVII. 
0  sloth  supreme!  0  silent  floods  and  cold! 

From  far-off  shores,  across  the  moonless  deeps, 
There  came  a  grieving  voice  that  cried:  "  Behold, 

How  all  is  lost!    Our  friend  forever  sleeps!  " 
And  I  arose, — as  if  a  wind  had  rolled 
And  cleft  the  moonless  deeps. 


ONE  NIGHT.  123 

XVIII. 

Then  as  a  new-wrought  star,  whose  clouds  are 

gone, 

Caught  in  a  solar  snare, — all  unafraid 
I  moved;  and  lo,  the  zones,  aflame  with  dawn, 
Were  populous  with  ghosts  in  snow  arrayed! 
I  heard    thy  singing  voice,   and,   Heavenward 

drawn, 
I  answered,  unafraid. 

XIX. 

0,  blithe  the  fire- nerved  frame  and  swift  the  flight! 

Sweet,  fold  thine  arms  about  me :  grief  is  done. 

Yet  lest  thy  smile  be  somewhat  vailed  from  sight, 

Turn  thou  thy  face  an  instant  from  the  sun. 
Ah,  quivering  kiss!  ....  Nay,  Love  engenders 

light: 
Behold,  the  night  is  done! 


124  MOTHER. 


MOTHER. 

I. 

"  SINCE  near  rae  cureless  invalids  bide 
Who  pine  in  darkened  rooms,"  I  said, 
"  Where  bitterly  that  hour  they  wait 
When  they  from  mortal  sight  shall  glide, 
Discarnate  (never  name  them  dead), 

I,  sorrowing  long,  who  sank  of  late 
Even  to  the  lips  in  silent  seas, 
To  comfort  me  will  comfort  these. 

II. 

"  Too  well  I  know  they  get  no  ease, 
But  suffer,  suffer  night  and  day; 
They  never  fill  the  weary  lungs 
Beneath  yon  lichen-crusted  trees 


MOTHER.-  125 

With  soft  and  odorous  airs  of  May; 

Nor  seek  her  golden  adder-tongues, 
The  flowers  her  pencilling  hand  adorns, 
Her  crinkle-roots  and  squirrel-corns. 

III. 

"  Health-rosy  as  the  rosy  morns, 

They  follow  not  the  pebbled  streams 

That  down  the  hollows  drip  and  dash; 
Nor  hasten  home,  when  twilight  warns, 
To  tranquil  rest  and  balmy  dreams; 

Nor  rise  full  early,  lift  the  sash, 
Lean  out,  let  sunrise  startle  sight 
With  furnace-colors,  blinding-bright. 

IV. 

"  Now  shall  it  be  my  one  delighfc 

To  cull  and  cluster  bloom  and  leaf— 
Their  dewy  growth  my  daily  task; 
And  if  the  breathing  beauties  slight 


126  MOTHER; 

But  for  a  rnom?nt  banish  grief 

From  these  poor  hearts,  no  more  I  ask: 
Dear  were  the  sick,  and  very  dear, 
To  her  who  fell  asleep  last  year. 

V. 

"  And  should  her  spirit  hover  near, 
As  some  would  say  and  as  I  think 
(For  she  was  never  far  and  slow, 
If  any  neighbor  wanted  cheer, 
But  smoothed  the  pillow,  poured  the  drink, 
And  made  her  deeds  her  kindness  show),- 
She  will  be  glad  my  flowers  to  see, 
Solace  the  sad  and  solace  me. 


"And  though  her  garden  fairer  be 
(Why  disbelieve  she  breaks  the  soil 

To  drop  those  Heaven-perfected  seeds  ?) 
Coming  and  going,  holy-free, 


MOTHER..  127 

She  may  observe  my  loving  toil; 

May  smile  approval,  know  my  needs, 
And,  all  unseen,  my  heart-strings  thrill 
With  mother-praises,  spirit-still." 

VII. 

So  back  and  forth,  with  eager  will, 
I  trod  my  small  inclosure  round, 

Through  every  leisure,  able  hour, 
To  shape  the  circle,  sow  the  drill, 
Make  fine  the  pulverable  ground, 

And  fondly  dream  of  bud  and  flower. 
Grow!  grow!  "  I  cried:  "  awake  and  stir! 
If  only  for  the  love  of  her." 

VIII. 

Did  any  embryo  defer 
To  lift  the  plumule,  faintly  green, 
I  did  not  spare  to  fume  and  fret, 
And  all  impatiently  aver 


128  MOTHER. 

The  nights  were  cold,  the  land  was  lean, 

The  surface  baked,  the  subsoil  wet; 
Until,  in  spite  of  tremulous  doubt, 
The  latest  sort  began  to  sprout. 

IX. 

Then  in,  across,  and  round  about, 
By  angle,  parallel  and  curve, 

With  much  transplanting,  careful-slow, 
I  wrought  my  pleasant  fancies  out, 
Panting  and  ill  and  weak  of  nerve. 

"And  this,"  I  mused,  "she  used  to  grow 
For  perfume;  this  for  grace  of  form; 
And  this  for  color  deep  and  warm. 

X. 

"And  this  for  blackness, — never  storm 
Wore  inkier  hues;  this  lemon-bell 

For  never- withering  fragrant  green; 
And  this,  that  butterflies  might  swarm 


MOTHER.  129 

To  sip  its  delicate  hydroruel; 

And  this  for  modesty  of  mien 
And  whiteness:  this  for  rarest  hue,— 
She  loved  to  call  it  '  Heavenly  blue.'  " 

XL 

Right  thriftily  the  seedlings  grew: 
And  I  went  searching,  day  by  day, 
For  axil-shoot  and  clasping  scale, 
Whence  buds  might  issue,  fair  and  new: 
Till  tempering  clouds  were  burned  away, 

And  all  the  sky  was  Summer  pale 
Before  the  time;  the  weeks  passed  by, 
Dew  ceased  to  fall  and  wolls  were  dry. 

XII. 

Another  noon  my  plants  must  die. 
Half-blind  with  looking  for  the  mist 
Through    sunset-fires    that    scorched    the 

brain, 
9 


130  MOTHER. 

I  sought  my  couch  with  many  a  sigh, 

Faithless  as  any  atheist: 

" It  will  not,  will  not,  will  not  rain! " 
I  sobbed;  but  weeping,  dropped  asleep, 
Or  sank  in  tranced  silence  deep. 

XIII. 

I  say  not  Love  the  dream  may  keep 
As  verity;  nor,  idly  fond, 

Would  sacred  truth  with  falsehood  leaven : 
But  sleepers  walk  where  athletes  creep; 
And  what  may  break  the  during  bond 

That  brings  the  mother  out  of  Heaven, 
To  prove  and  evermore  make  good 
The  tenderness  of  motherhood? 

XIV. 

And  lo,  within  my  sight  she  stood! 
She  gravely  gazed,  she  dimly  smiled; 
Had  well  rebuked, — but  all  her  heart, 


MOTHER.  131 

As  never  heart  of  mortal  could, 
Within  her  melting  for  her  child, 

Seemed  welling  up  to  take  my  part, 
Excuse  the  fault,  the  merit  claim : 
She  might  not  praise,  she  would  not  blame. 

XV. 

But  nearer,  nearer  while  she  came, 
She  brought,  upon  her  open  palms, 

An  earth-bound  root,  that  angel-lore 
Had  surely  named  some  hallowed  name 
Beneath  inviolable  calms, — 

So  white  the  single  flower  it  bore. 
And  "  Set  the  plant,"  she  uttered  low, 
"Among  your  other  plants  to  grow." 

XVI. 

I  took  the  glistening  green  and  snow: 
"Mother,  I  thank  you,"  then  I  said; 
"  I  never  saw  a  bloom  so  pure: 


132  MOTHER. 

But  tell  me  if  the  name  you  know." 
Her  eyes  in  mine  their  sweetness  shed; 
Soft  was  her  voice  as  bells  that  lure 
From  far  the  wandering  soul  to  prayer: 
"The  flower  of  Patience:  give  it  care." 

XVII. 

Between  ns  swam  the  dizzying  air, — 
I  reached  my  arms,  I  lost  the  sight; 
Within  my  ear  the  music  failed. 
First  darkness;  then  a  scarlet  glare; 
Burst  the  long  thunder  through  the  night, 

Peal  hurled  on  peal;  the  wild  winds  wailed; 
As  though  some  Heavenly  sea  to  drain, 
Came  down  the  rain!  came  down  the  rain! 


ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE.  133 


ONE   OF   THE    TWELVE. 

{After  death,  in  converse  with  his  brethren.] 
I. 

THEY  answered,  "What  is  that  to  us? 
See  thou  to  that.  .  .  .  Who  bids  the  dead  to  rise 

Himself  shall  die.  Is  he  not  blasphemous '? 
Full  of  sedition — prophesying  lies? 

It  shall  be  seen  if  he  be  marvellous! " 

II. 

Woe  unto  me  for  mine  offense! 
These  thirsted,  as  the  lions  when  they  spring, 

And  in  the  bended  neck  of  Innocence 
Fasten  their  whited  teeth  and  pant  and  cling: — 

Be  sure  till  they  have  drunk  they  go  not  thence. 


134  ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE. 

III. 

I  flung  them  down  their  thirty  coins — • 
The  silver  Caesars  shedding  blood  as  rain ; 

I  fled,  as  lepers  flee,  whom  no  man  joins, — 
Who  shriek,  through  covered  lips,  from  camp  to 

plain, 

Struck  deep  with  scall— accursed  in  life  and 
loins. 

IV.' 

Lo,  yet,  if  him  they  chanced  to  meet, 
Their  burning  flesh,  as  foam  of  Galilee, 
Grew  cool  and  soft, — through  spikenard  danced 

their  feet: 

But  I — the  earth  me  hated  and  the  sea! 
Him  had  I  sold  who  made  the  lepers  sweet. 

V. 

Him  had  I  stricken  dumb,  who  sealed 
The  mouths  of  rending  spirits.     Fair  was  he, — 


ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE.  135 

Most  lowly  fair,  as  lilies  of  the  field: 
He  made  the  lame  to  walk,  the  blind  to  see; 
Him,  if  one  touched,  that  hour  his  hurt  was 
healed. 

VI. 

Weeping,  he  comfort  gave  who  drew 
From  out  the  Heaven  of  heavens  that  flying  dove : 

Him  wonderful,  the  holy  prophets  knew, — 
Who  from  the  tender  branches  of  his  love 

Fed,  as  with  grapes,  the  Gentile  and  the  Jew. 

VII. 

Them  if  he  taught,  "Blessed  are  they — 
The  poor,  the  merciful — they  shall  rejoice," 

Like  singing  birds  the  laden  went  their  way: 
Now  had  the  tuneful  harpings  of  his  voice 

Become  as  thunders  of  the  LORD,  that  slay. 

VIII. 

My  feet,  which  late  he.washed,  the  sward 


136  ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE. 

Disdained  to  bear;  my  flesh,  his  wine  had  cheered, 
Self-hung,  fell  down,  spurned  of  the  knotted 

cord: 

No  vengeful  sword  nay  bursting  eyeballs  seared, — 
My  SIN,    the    sword,   against    my   life,    that 
warred. 

IX. 

A  spirit  clothed  upon  with  flame, 
(As  when  that  multitude  the  lanterns  brought 

And  over  Cedron's  brook  with  weapons  came, 
That  I  should  hail  and  kiss  him  whom  they 

sought,) 
I,  Judas,  issuing,  put  the  night  to  shame. 

X. 

None  valiant  stood  my  course  to  stay, 
Slinging  the  stone  that  I  should  fall  thereby ; 

None  terrible,  whom  evil  ones  obey: 
Not  Cain  nor  Lamech,  driven  of  Him,  MOST  HIGH, 

Nor  winged  Abaddon,  raging  for  his  prey. 


ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE.  137 

XL 

If  any  sun,  across  the  vault, 
To  Hermon's  cliffs  me  traitorous  might  aid, 

That  I,  upon  their  topmost  snows  should  halt, 
I  searched  as  those  of  Sodom,  all  afraid, 
Nor  quenched  me  in  their  wretched  sea  of  salt. 

XII. 

That  emptiness  wherein  I  trode 
Was  spread  with  odors  foul, — as  it  had  kept 
The   four  days   dead,   who  there    corruption 

strowed, 

Till  one  had  stood  without,  had  groaning  wept, 
Had  cried  "Come  forth  I  " — with.whom  the  life 
abode. 

XIII. 

Down-reaped  and  garnered  as  the  grain, 
How  went  that  sleeper  out,  loosed  hand  and  foot! 
Me  might  he  so  have  loved,  me  called  amain; 


138  ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE. 

For  this  the  curse  was  on  me  branch  and  root: 
Who  raised  the  dead,   him  had  I  kissed  and 
slain. 

XIV. 

If  but  the  outermost  to  find, 
Of  that  black-hollowed  sepulchre,  full  wido, 
I  journeyed  on,  far-going  as  the  wind  .... 
How  sweet  his  voice  upon  the  mountain-side ! 
"  Thee  have  I  chosen:" — Wherefore  was  he 
kind? 

XV. 

Did  he  not  know  if  once  the  springs 
Ran  out  red  blood,  that  I  should  dip  and  drink? 

Was  he  not  lifted,  as  on  eagles'  wings? 
If  he  but  spake,  did  not  the  tempest  sink  ? 

Who  slayeth  not  the  adder,  ere  he  stings  ? 

XVI. 

How  with  a  whirlwind  swept  and  piled, 


ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE.  139 

The  money-changers  fled — blown  out  as  leaves! 

"  The  place  of  prayer,"  Tie  said,   "ye  have 

defiled ; 
Mi/  FATHER'S  house  ye  make  a  den  of  thieves." 

Did  I  not  rob  the  poor? — On  me  he  smiled. 

XVII. 

Fiercely  -within  me  wrought  my  deed; 
Without,  the  midnight  was  as  it  were  not: 
My  heart  did  sow  abroad  its  fiery  seed,— 
Yea,  heated  as  a  furnace  seven  times  hot, 
Itself  upon  itself  did  turn  and  feed. 

XVIII. 

Dread  as  a  cloud  whose  lightning  threats, 
Now  came  I  to  a  sea,  walled  East  and  West, — 
Even  that  whereby  they  toiled,  who  cast  their 

nets 

When  from  their  ship  the  hungered  souls  be  blest, 
Who  drew  them,  great  with  what  the  surge 
begets. 


140  ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE. 

XIX. 

Scattered  were  they  who  him  obeyed: 
"  Abide  in  me,"  he  spake;  "  /  am  the  vine." 

How  were  they  desolate  and  all  dismayed ! 
Or  ever  of  his  fruit  the  boughs  gave  sign, 

Iscariot,  at  the  root,  the  axe  had  laid. 

XX. 

0  cities  nine!    0  region  swept 
With  plagues,  where  late  he  dwelt!     On  all  that 

coast, 

None  lifted  up  the  head,  none  wailed  or  wept. 
There  did  the  violent  floods  make  stormy  boast, 
And  none  their  rage  rebuked.  .  .  .    The  Mas 
ter  slept. 

XXL 

Neared  I  such  desert-land  as  girda 
The  templed  mountain  and  the  palmy  groves, — 
Strown  round  with  multitudes,  like  famished 
herds 


ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE.  141 

Which  none  had  watched:    For  such  he  brake 

the  loaves, 

The   while   they  loved  him  for  his  peaceful 
words. 

XXII. 
Twelve  did  he  choose:     "  Go  forth,"  he 

said; 
"  Be  even  as  I,  the  fallen  ones  to  lift: 

Cast  ye  the  devils  out,  raise  up  the  dead."  .  .  . 
What  had  I  rendered  him  for  this,  his  gift? 
Had  I  not  killed  my  Lord,  these  had  been  fed. 

XXIII. 

Palsied  and  leprous,  maimed  and  sick — 
How  had  they  leaped  and  laughed,  new-cleansed 

and  clothed! 

Haply  myself  had  made  these  dead  man  quick 
(ONE  working  in  me)  .  .  .  .  Them  to  see  I  loathed: 
About  that  place  the  pestilence  was  thick. 


142  ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE. 

XXIV. 

Upon  me  were  His  terrors  turned: 
As  Eden's  cherubim  had  fenced  the  sod 

With  wings  that  high  as  Abel's  offering  burned, 
As  I  had  heard  the  awful  Voice  of  GOD, 
Helped  on  of  mighty  winds  the  rocks  I  spurned. 

XXV. 

Albeit  His  wrath  JKHOVAH  curbs, 
Behold  His  glittering  sword  he  stays  to  whet! 

Beneath  my  fleeing  feet,  that  crushed  the  herbs, 
Forth  sprang  the  blood, — my  raiment  all  was  wet : 

I  sped  as  one  whose  heel  the  grave  disturbs. 

XXVI. 

Forthwith  the  buried  ones  uprose; 
They  sorely  pressed — they  smote  me  while  they 

spake: 
"  Shall  earth,  before  her  season,  feel  the  throes? 


ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE.  143 

The    seals  wherewith  He   sealed   us  dost  thou 

break? 
Wilt  thou,  withal,  our  nakedness  disclose? 

XXVII. 

"  How  had  we  lain  and  slept?  "  they  cried, 
"  Bound  with  the  scented  linen  fine  and  clean; 

Till,  as  a  bridegroom  seeking  for  his  bride, 
Our  Lord  had  come,  and,  with  his  arrows  keen, 

Had  slain  that  king  with  whom  the  dead  abide! 

XXVIII. 

"How  had  we  risen,  arrayed  as  flowers! 
Whiter  than  fuller's  cloth  had  we  been  white — 

So  had  he  made  his  noontide  splendor  ours; 
That  we  should  feast  among  the  sons  of  light, 
How  had  he  led  us  through  the  olive-bowers!  " 

XXIX. 

Bitter  that  I  his  life  had  spilt, 


144  ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE. 

As  waves  of  thronging  seas  they  round  nie  surged. 

Meantime  if  any  refuge  had  been  built 
For  such  as  I,  whom  these  avengers  urged, 

I  sought  to  enter  in  and  hide  my  guilt. 

XXX. 

When  lo,  the  city !  she  who  scorns 
Her  King;  who  wastes  the  costly  ointment  sweet; 

Nor  yet  for  wedding-mirth  her  house  adorns; 
Now  did  I  think  to  reach  the  mercy-seat, 

And  lay  mine  hands  upon  the  altar-horns. 

XXXI. 

Scourged  thither,  whence  of  late  I  fled, 
Deep  sick  was  I,  as  one  his  wound  who  probes: 
That  I,  where  him  I  wronged,  might  vail   my 

head, 

Might  rend  from  off  my  limbs  their  filthy  robes, 
Great  were   my  wrestlings  with  the   fleshless 
dead. 


ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE.  145 

XXXII. 

Ere  yet  the  scarlet  courts  I  neared, 
The  mountains  trembled  and  the  crags  were  torn; 

Him  I  beheld  upon  ths  cross  upreared; 
Whom  I  betrayed,  forsaken  there  did  mourn. 

He  on  Elohim  called Now  first  I  feared ! 

XXXIII. 

Him  did  the  prince  of  Hell  assault — 
That  serpent  whom  the  sons  of  men  accuse; 

Yea.  Death  his  crest  did  verily  exalt, 
That  he,  the  well-beloved  son  should  bruise — 

One  altogether  lovely,  without  fault, 

XXXIV. 

Meekly  the  Christ  gave  up  the  ghost .... 
New  saw  I  him  in  glistening  beauty  clad, 

Brighter  than  he  who  leads  the  starry  host, 
White-walking  with  the  dead — them  making  glad; 

Among  their  shining  throngs  he  shining  mo^t. 


146  ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE. 

XXXV. 

As  one  the  crimson  bolt  who  shuns 
With  lifted  hands,  down  at  his  feet  I  fell: 
More  naked  than  the  gnawed  and  dreadful 

ones, — 
Self-stripped  and  shamed.  ...  On  me  his  eyes  did 

dwell, 
As  they,  for  light,  had  gathered  up  the  suns. 

XXXVI. 

Now  was  I  smitten  with  the  sword : 
Even  pierced  to  the  dividing  of  the  joints, — 

Cut  down  and  withered  like  the  prophet's  gourd. 
As  one  for  burial  who  his  child  anoints, 

On  me  the  vials  of  his  love  he  poured. 

XXXVII. 

For  me,  of  murderers  most  abhorred, 
With  Death  he  darkly  strove;  behold,  he  wept! 
"ELI,"  he  cried,  "  me,  sorrowful,  reward!  ". . . 


ONE  OF  THE  TWELVE.  147 

As  I,  full  sweet,  beneath  the  flowers  had  slept, 
All  fair  as  they,   I  rose — and  kissed  my  Lord. 

XXXVIII. 

Lo,  meet  for  salts  of  Judgment,  shorn 
And  all  despoiled — among  the  twelve  the  least 

Among  the  poor  and  vile,  that  one  forlorn, — 
Yet  was  I  bidden  to  the  marriage-feast: 

Honey,  with  honeycomb,  and  oil,  and  corn. 


SONNETS. 

JJ  a  man  die  sfiatt  he  live  again  t " 


149 


SONNETS.  151 

I. 

ALL  pleasant  are  the  greenwoods  where  abide 
Soft-hued  Hepaticas  and  wind-flowers  pale, 
The  shaly  clefts  where  streaked  herb-Roberts  hide, 
The  slants  where  droop  the  harebells  fairy-frail; 
And  pleasant  are  the  marshes  mallow-rosed, 

The  grassy  dips  that  hold  the  shallow  ponds, 
The  waterfalls  through  flood-torn  banks  disclosed, 
The  haunts  where  ferns  uncurl  thair  delicate 

fronds; 

And  pleasant  are  the  glooms  of  towering  pines, 
Moss-beds  whose  scarlet-dotted  tufts  secrete 
Low  wintergreens  white-globed,  and    partridga- 

vines, 

Twin-leaved,  twin-tubed,  faint-tinged  and  per 
fect  sweet; 

Full  pleasant  are  the  pink-boughed  laurel-bowers 
Where  children  climb  and  cling  and  load  their 
hands  with  flowers. 


152  SONNETS. 

II. 
UP,  mourning  soul !   Why  for  the  Dead  remain 

In  Griefs  illimitable  caverns  mute? 

Herein  shall  hills  their  leaping  pulses  drain, 

Nor  yield  thee  any  profit,  bloom  or  fruit; 
Her  sombre  doors  against  thy  feet  made  fast, 

Still  must  thou,  groping,  track  this  aisled  snare, 
Deepen  some  ghastly  grave-room  plunge  at  last, 

Touch  crumbling  hands  ?    (Oh,  once  their  brows 

were  fair 
Who  now  from  Summer  gladness  lie  aloof  !) 

Call  thou,  and  cry:  if  any  tempest  lower, 
Bid  thou  its  bolts  thy  sealed  jail  unroof; 

Or  if,  far  down,  the  terrible  Earthquake  cower, 
With  tremblings  as  of  one  whom  fears  prevent, 
Cominandthou  that  these  rock- wrought  fastnesses 
be  rent. 


SONNETS.  153 

III. 
MY  little  torch,  uplifted,  lights  me  round 

The  drear  earth-chambers:  Here  a  stony  rose, 
And  there  a  goblet  dashed  upon  the  ground : 

But  never  dew  exhales,  or  sweet  wine  flows 
From  mimic  flask  or  tankard;  never  drips 

Down  bowls  ancestral  Love's  metheglin  clear — 
Bee-plunderings,  fitly  strained  for  poet-lips. 

Beneath  immeasurable  vaults  1  veer 
The  kindled  brand,  nor  gild  unfeatured  night 

Beyond  an  arm-reach;  now  some  water-ink, 
To  light  impervious,  blanks  the  downward  sight, 

And  stays  the  search;  and  now,  in  truth,  I  think 
To  shriek  so  loud  the  very  dead  must  rise, 
Break  through  immuring  walls,  let  sun  into  mine 
eyes. 


154  SONNETS. 

IV. 
THE  Dead.  .  .  Ah,  verily  not  asleep  they  lie! 

So  bitter-loved  they  are,  they  needs  must  live. 
And  hear — though  Hades  smother  up  the  cry, 

And  every  volant  zephyr  prove  a  sieve 
To  spill  the  sounds.     What  then  remains  to  do 

But  call  and  call  ?    Be  certain  they  will  come, 
Dispart  the  rocks,  to  outward  climbings  woo; 

Voicing  their  proud  "We  are! "strike  Sorrow 

dumb; 
Harping  "  We  shall  be!  "  thrill  the  resonant  deeps 

With  roar  of  echoes — sha,ke  reverberant  earth, 
Smite  down,  demolish  intercluding  steeps, 

Exalt  and  fill  with  everlasting  mirth 
Their  dear-beloved — no  more  to  dwell  and  dwine 
In  hollows  subterrene,  dark-locked  from  things 
divine. 


SONNETS.  155 

V. 

AND  healthful  are  the  tamarack-scented  airs, 

Deep  vale-suspirings,  upland-breathings  keen, 
Out-blowings  of  the  mountain-gale  that  shares 
That  smell  of  rifts  where  berried  cedars  lean ; 
Healthful  the  swift  surf-ploughing  trade- winds  all, 
Sky-coursing  blasts  that  roll  the  thunder- wains, 
Far- whirled  cyclones  that  make  the  forests  fall, 

Black,  unresisted,  levelling  hurricanes; 
And  healthful  are  the  shinings  of  the  noon, 
Mist-emanations  thin  as  spectral  shroud, 
Dew-gatherings,   driftings  dense  that   blot  the 

moon, 
Rain-sprinklings    cool,  down-pourings  of   the 

cloud. 

Stand    forth,   cave-prophet: — Wind  and  earth 
quake-din, 

Then  fire:  the  still,  small  Voice,  and  lo,  the  LORD 
therein ! 


156  SONNETS. 

VI. 

SOUL,  be  thou  humble :    It  is  good  to  hear 

The  cooing  of  the  babes,  their  gurgling  speech, 
Child-wonderings,  when  the  sly  gusts  interfere, 

And  sail  the  rainbow-bubbles  out  of  reach; 
To  hear  the  young  laugh  out  where  skaters  throng, 

The  free  sled-riders  shout  in  coasting-time, 
True- lovers  murmur,  mothers  croon  the  song, 

Choirs  chant  loud  anthems  when  the  church- 
bells  chime; 
Better  to  hear  the  prayings  of  the  old 

Who  wait  Death's  ocean-deep  baptismal  rite, 
Who,  sighing,  sink  in  slow  submergings  cold, 

Who  soar,  exulting,  vailed  from  narrow  sight. 
Oh,  best,  on  hushed  and  holy  heights  to  meet, 
And  hear,  from  spirit-lips,  familiar  words  and 
sweet! 


SONNETS.  157 

VII. 
SOUL,  be  thou  pure:    Rise,  clean  as  river-flowers 

From  out  the  soil  and  slime,  the  covered  shame, 
As  sweet-bay  blossom-cups  that  gather  showers, 

Whose  tree-uphold  en  whiteness  none  can  blame; 
Pure  as  thrice- winnowed  snow  on  peaks  of  Ind, 

.As  North-fire  flickerings  up  the  starry  ways, 
As  planet  glancings,  streamings  of  the  wind 

That  sweeps  the  splendors  far  when  comets 

blaze; 
As  beamings  of  the  central  Sun  that  warms 

The  uttermost  concealments  of  the  night, 
Our  one-revolving  Universe  informs  « 

With  awful  inter-penetrating  light 
Infused  from  GODHEAD;  pure  as  are  the  blest 
That  on  the  Infinite  Bosom  smiling  lean  and  rest. 


158  SONNETS. 

VIII. 
SOUL,  be  thou  not  remote  and  slow  to  love: 

Be  as  the  flakes  that  on  the  snowdrop  melt, 
Making  the  sweet  more  sweet;  as  fumes  above 

Full  incense- vases  where  the  coals  have  dwelt, 
Whose  odoriferous  atoms,  smoking  out 

From  gum  and  stacte,  onycha  and  myrrh, 
Infold  the  righteous  and  the  undevout; 

Be  thou  as  Eden's  atmosphere  astir 
With  walkings  of  the  LORD;  be  as  the  fire 

To  snow-bewildered  wanderers;  as  the  sun 
To  dungeon-wretches — life's  fulfilled  desire; 

As  altar-flame  when  sacrifice  is  done; 
As  burning  furnace-heats,  where  unalarmed 
Thy  loved  shall  enter  in,  meet  GOD,  and  move 
unharmed. 


SONNETS.  159 

IX. 

AND  beautiful  shall  on  the  mountains  be 

The  feet  of  them  that  bring  good  tidings  down, 
That  haste  to  publish  peace  ;  and  thou  shalt  see, 

Yet  in  thy  flesh,  thy  MAKER:  He  shall  crown 
Thy  days  with  ecstasies,  thy  nights  with  calms; 
And  He  shall  make  thee  rich  with  meal  and 

wine, 
With  fatness  of  the  flocks,  with  powders,  balms, 

With  milk  and  honey,  clusters  of  the  vine, 
Olives,    pomegranates,    dates    and    mandrakes 

sweet; 
And  thou  shalt   bid   the  sick,  the  halt,  the 

blind, 

In  to  the  feast;  and  thou  shalt  bathe  their  feet 
With  smelling  ointments;  thou  their  wounds 

shalt  bind, 

Therein  the  precious  oil  of  healing  pour; 
And  thou  shalt  feed  His  poor,  withholding  not 
thy  store. 


1GO  SONNETS. 

X. 

THE  ho]y  ones  shall  cover  not  from  thee 

The  brightness  of  their  faces  where  they  shine : 
From  that  all-cold  sepulture  of  the  sea 
Thou    shalt    come  forth ;    and  lo,   the  Hand 

Divine 
Shall  so  uplift  thee,  thou  shalt  surely  hear 

The  four-and-twenty  elders  say:  "All  things 
Thou  hast  created,  LORD!  "  and  thou  shalt  near 

The  golden  altar  where  the  incense  clings — 
Sweet,  sweet,  most  sweet  with  prayers  of  all  the 

saints ! 

Shalt  see  the  golden  censer,  filled  with  fire, 
Cast  into  earth,  whence  rose  thy  long  complaints; 
Shalt  hear   the  creatures  four,  whose    great 

desire 

Rests  not,  forever  say  (thyself  not  dumb) : 
"  Worthy  the  LORD,  which  WAS,  and  is,  and  is 
TO  COME!  " 


" 


